The Golden Canary
by ten.plus
Summary: AU. Tsuna has always been more of a singer than a fighter, but when he's kidnapped by a family that's not his own, it sets off a chain of events no one can even begin to imagine. It means that this time, his family has to find their way to him, and Reborn isn't taking failure as an option. [Story fragments woven into a single epic.]
1. Prologue: The Magpie

AN: I'm finally attempting my hand at a novel-length story, and an AU one at that. I've learned from my previous lessons to plan the outline of a longer story before attempting to write it, and I'm pleased to say I have 7 pages' worth of plans. This prologue only covers one-half of the first paragraph of this plan, so it's safe to say I'm in this for the long haul.

I've been a fan of _Reborn!_ ever since it was still in serialization, but haven't attempted fanfic in their world until today. It's also been a while since I last read the whole manga, but I made sure to do all the research. If you still spot any inconsistencies, please let me know. It's also best if you've read _Reborn!_ up to the Future arc. But without further ado, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I have no claim over _Katekyo Hitman Reborn!._

* * *

 **The Golden Canary  
** by ten

 _One for sorrow, two for mirth,  
_ _Three for a funeral, four for a birth,  
_ _Five for heaven, six for hell,  
_ _Seven for the devil, his own self.  
_

* * *

 _Prologue: The Magpie_

The head of the Sawada household was stretched out on the cool wooden boards of the front patio, eyes closed but not asleep. He'd finally, _finally_ been able to return home for a short break due to an unusual lull in activity at work, and the look on his lovely wife's face when he'd swooped her into his arms yesterday was priceless. It'd been a whole year, one month, and seven days since he last saw her, and in his eyes she'd become even more beautiful than before.

 _Only my wonderful Nana-chan can make time stand still,_ he sighed, heart already bursting at the seams.

With his eyes still closed, he grabbed the nearby sake bottle and took a swig, savouring the sweet burn despite the summer heat.

 _This is the life._

And indeed it was, listening to the lazy drawl of cicadas coming from the trees and the rustle of leaves as hot wind dragged through. And just a few steps away, was his cute, chubby-cheeked–

"Otou-san?"

–Tuna-fish. Iemitsu watched through slitted eyes as his only son tumbled towards him, still half in disbelief that the tiny baby he'd held not too long ago was now six years old and even _cuter_ than he's ever been.

 _Huh. I guess he takes after Nana-chan in more ways than one_.

Soft and clumsy hands patted his bare shoulder, hesitant at first, then with slightly more force.

"Otou-san?"

He could hear the confusion in his son's voice, but kept pretending to be asleep, curious as to what he'd do next.

A moment of silence reigned before the shaking started up again.

" _Otouuuuu-saaaaan!_ "

With a booming laugh, he scooped the boy into his arms and beard-tickled his round cheeks in delight, and the boy squealed with laughter.

" _Hieeee!_ Stop! Stop iiiiit!" The father refused, cuddling until the overflow of love in his heart was satisfied. "I give! I give!"

Iemitsu finally relented, swinging the boy around one more time before sitting up and placing him in his lap. The boy looked up at him with accusation in his brown eyes.

"You wasn't _really_ sleeping. Otou-san is a meanie!"

Tsuna puffed out his cheeks in an attempt to look threatening, but it only made his father laugh.

"It's _weren't_ , not _wasn't_. Is Japanese still too difficult for you?"

"Ts-Tsuna can speak fine! Otou-san is really a meanie!"

To Iemitsu's horror, tears began to pool in his son's eyes, and he hurriedly tried to fix what he'd done.

 _Yup, definitely more like his mother._

"Shhh, shh. I'm sorry, okay? Otou-san is a big meanie and he will try to be nicer to Tsuna."

Tsuna sniffed, allowing the 'meanie' to hug as an apology.

"So? What did my wonderful boy want from me while I was pretending to sleep?"

It is easy for children to forgive and forget, and Tsuna was no different as he rubbed away the last of his snot and tears with an arm, and beamed at his dad.

"I wanna show you something! Something really cool!"

With that, he tugged his father's hand, and Iemitsu followed.

They went through the yard and stopped at the far wall next to the gate, where several trees were lined to give the house a little more privacy, then Tsuna looked up with squinted eyes. Iemitsu mimicked his son, wondering what he was looking for.

"There! Can you see? But be v-e-r-y quiet!" The boy's voice dropped to a conspiring whisper, and pointed a finger for his dad to see.

Iemitsu's eyes followed the imaginary line, and spotted the golden-brown bird with a light grey breast. It had a short line of darker grey feathers stemming from the corner of its eyes, and it was cocking its head this way and that, twitching in the way birds do. Iemitsu was about to whisper back, but the bird lifted its head and twittered its song.

" _Hoh-hokekyo! Hoooookekyo!_ "

"Now that's rare," Iemitsu whispered in between the bird's chirps.

"Hmm? What's rare?"

"This bird usually sings in spring. It's called a bush warbler."

"A bush warb?"

Iemitsu stifled a chuckle.

"Warbler."

"War-ber?"

"Eh, close enough. Anyway, want a closer look?"

Tsuna's eyes lit up in excitement, and held up his arms in the classic 'pick me up!' pose. His father obliged, settling him on his broad shoulders as Tsuna's eyes sought the bird out once more.

"Hoh-hokekyo! Hoh-hokekyo!" Tsuna mimicked the bird, causing it to turn his way.

" _Hoh-hohohokekyo!_ " It called back, tilting its head in confusion.

"Hey, that's a pretty good imitation! Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Just now. Weren't you listening to the bush warber?"

It didn't really answer his question, but Iemitsu smiled anyway.

"Awwww! My little Tuna-fish is so clever!"

Tsuna blushed in happy embarrassment, and continued to mimic the bird's song, trying to make the slight pitch changes sound better so his otou-san would praise him again.

"Singing with the birds is Tsu-kun's new favourite pastime."

Both boys swung around to catch Nana walking through the front gate with a soft smile and an armful of groceries and leaflets, and Iemitsu was torn between staying where he was or running over to cuddle the love of his life. Tsuna had no such reservations, and nudged his father's head towards his mother.

"Okaa-san! I'm singing the bush warber's song!"

She laughed, and saved her husband the trouble by going over and allowing Iemitsu to give her a crushing hug.

"That's nice. You should sing the songs you learned at school for papa too; I think he'll like them more."

"Mi~dori tanabiku, nanimori no!"

"…What's that? Your school's song?"

Tsuna grinned and nodded. "Mummy doesn't seem to like it as much though."

"Oh, I like it just fine, unless you sing it too often," she replied dryly. "Anyway, darling, I need to prepare dinner for tonight. Can you take Tsu-kun to Kokuyo Land? We usually go on Wednesdays for the discount, but since you're making a surprise visit you might as well go today. It might be a little late for there to be many songbirds left in their outdoor section, but you can probably find a few that stayed like this bush warbler. If all else fails, take him to the bird sanctuary, although he's getting bored of them as they're always the same birds."

Iemitsu raised an eyebrow. "Birds again?"

"Like I said, his new favourite pastime. You should have seen when we went in spring; he was practically shaking with excitement." She grinned at the memory. "If possible, try to get him to sing some of the songs they teach him at Namimori-sho(1): his music teacher keeps praising his voice, even though he sometimes messes up the lyrics. I always knew he has a gift, but who knew our little Tsu-kun could impress his teacher too?"

"That's my boy! Impressing all the ladies already!" He lifted Tsuna off his shoulders to give the embarrassed boy another cuddle, then set him down on the ground. "Shall we go then my little Tuna-fish? Or maybe I should call you my little birdie now."

"Otouuu-saaaan…"

The eye-roll told him exactly what Tsuna thought of the nicknames, but he took his father's hand anyway, excited to go to the amusement park with his rarely-home father.

"Okay. We'll be back by five-fifteen, maybe five-thirty if you include travel time."

"Perfect." Nana popped the front door open, disappearing inside for a few seconds before re-emerging with a small yellow backpack. "I packed this this morning; some water and money, and a jacket in case Tsu-kun gets cold."

Iemitsu declared that his wife was the best in the world, and promptly dumped the backpack on Tsuna. "It's filled with your stuff so you should hold on to it."

He received a small glare, but Tsuna was too excited to protest. They were going to Kokuyo Land!

"Come on slowpoke; let's go!"

He proceeded to drag his son through the gate, but was stopped by his wife's urgent call.

"Darling, at least put on some pants first! And Tsu-kun needs his shoes!"

* * *

(1): "Namimori-chu" stands for "Namimori-Middle", while "Namimori-sho" stands for "Namimori-Elementary". Their school anthem has the exact same lyrics, only it's changed to "-sho" instead of "-chu".

AN: This story will, in many ways, follow canon events, but I will be pruning away a few characters while placing more emphasis on a few minor characters. I will leave most of the main characters in though, up to and including the Varia arc. All OCC-ness will be due to the events that follow.

Leave a review if you'd like to tell me what you think! Criticism and other observations are also welcome. I will try to keep writing ahead; around 1-2 chapters further than the most recent update.


	2. The Duck

AN: Thank you for all the reviews, follows, and favourites! In response to one reviewer's question, the only pairing is between Iemitsu and Nana. The main focus is still on familial love.

On another note, when writing this story, I realised how dark almost all nursery rhymes are. You'll soon realise it too (if you haven't already done so).

Anyway. Here's chapter 1.

EDIT: I've tweaked the story so everything spoken in Italian will use the Italian version of quotation marks. It looks like this: «Speaking Italian.»

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _One little duck went out one day,  
_ _Over the hills and far away.  
_ _Daddy duck called "Quack-quack-quack-quack,"  
_ _But no little duck came wandering back._

* * *

 _Chapter 1: The Duck_

The bus to Kokuyo Land took less than fifteen minutes, and after Iemitsu bought their tickets, they made a beeline to the bird sanctuary that was in a small section to the side of the garden zoo (to Tsuna's great insistence and Iemitsu's amusement).

As it was a regular Thursday, there were only a few people drifting about, and they were alone by the time they opened the door to the glass dome of the bird sanctuary. Tsuna raced off to see his favourite birds hiding among the arching trees, and Iemitsu kept pace, keeping a discreet eye out for escape routes, security cameras, and possible threats.

"Otou-san! Look; that's Kuri-kun! He makes a 'Kururi-kuru' sound."

He allowed himself to be distracted by Tsuna's excited tugging on his pant leg, and looked towards the orange-breasted thrush sitting on a branch above them. As if to prove Tsuna right, the bird called out a greeting.

" _Kuru. Kururi, kuru!_ "

Tsuna smiled, and responded in the same manner before tugging his father in another direction. Each bird had its own name and song, and it made Iemitsu wonder what Tsuna would be like if he applied his love for birds to his studies. Nana-chan had commented several times over the phone about her worry that Tsuna was always a little slower than his peers, and there was still a clumsiness that lingered in his bones no matter how hard she tried to fix it.

Speaking of which, his clumsiness showed every now and then, and in his eagerness to get round to every single bird, Iemitsu already had to save him from face-planting a few times.

"Tsuna, slow down! You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep running like that!"

His words fell on seemingly deaf ears as the boy ran off again, then proceeded to trip over his own feet and fall before his father had a chance to catch him.

 _Tenth time's the charm_. Iemitsu resisted the urge to face-palm as the boy's eyes welled with tears and adopted the sniffling sound of a child trying not to cry.

"See? What did I say?"

But he was still his father, and Tsuna was still a child, so he picked him up gently and checked the damage done.

Apart from twin scrapes on his hands and gravel on his knees, he was fine, so Iemitsu reached into the backpack for the water Nana-chan mentioned and – thank heavens for his wife's foresight – a box of bandages. Tsuna winced at the cold water being poured over his scrapes, but his father's firm grip on his hands prevented him from shrinking away.

He looked up as his father, still teary-eyed from the fall.

"Is…is otou-san mad? I'm sorry," Tsuna said in a tiny voice, his bowed head and body full of misery.

Iemitsu was surprised. He didn't think his face showed any displeasure at all.

"What makes you think I'm mad?"

"Well…mama always sings 'itai itai deteke' when I get hurt. And…and I know you warned me, but I really _really_ wanted to show you all the birds, because sometimes they fly away and it's hard to chase after them."

Huh. His son _had_ heard him after all.

"And I know we have to be home for dinner, b-but I want to play with you as much as I can before you fly away, too."

Damn, and didn't that just melt his heart and give him a kick to his backside all at once.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before patting his son's hands dry, and stuck a colourful bandage on each scrape before softly singing "Itai itai deteke" in a husky voice. Then he pulled his son into a quick hug to show he's nowhere near angry, before bouncing him up onto his shoulders.

"So! Where to next, my little birdie?"

His son's arms around his neck warmed him more than the afternoon sun, and soon enough Tsuna was twittering away again.

* * *

After they'd seen every single bird in the sanctuary (Tsuna made sure to keep count), they wandered back outside to try to catch a glimpse of any wild birds before they had to leave. Iemitsu had suggested a visit to the karaoke room or the theatre, but Tsuna was vehemently opposed to the idea. To him, 'fun' meant doing the things he liked, and after his tumble, Iemitsu didn't mind indulging the boy just a little more. It would be all too soon for his cute tuna-bird to grow up, and while Iemitsu dreaded the day, he felt it would be best to reveal the truth about his 'business', as it'd be unlikely that his son could avoid the mafia world.

After all, Iemitsu was the second-hand man to the biggest famiglia in Italy, which meant occupational hazards and generational curses all rolled into one. It'd be best for Tsuna to have an idea of the harsh outside world, but not now, of course – it was one of the reasons why he'd insisted on having his residential home in Japan instead of Italy, so that his son could have as normal of a childhood as possible. At least until he turned fifteen.

It would be a heavy burden to bear, but for the sake of his family and famiglia, it was the only thing he could do. That, and pray to any god out there that Tsuna would be strong enough to handle it all.

Said son was currently searching and singing at the same time, quietly as there were a few strangers here and there (he discovered early on that the boy was actually quite timid around people he didn't know), but the innocent melody of a famous children's song drifted around in a pleasant way. Tsuna was hoping to somehow attract birds in this manner, and the comment had made Iemitsu grin.

The song was interrupted by a ringtone, and he had to pause before remembering he'd brought his work phone.

"Sorry Tsuna; I have to answer this…ah, secret call," he smiled apologetically while setting his son on the ground.

Iemitsu gave a quick survey of the area and deemed it safe before taking his phone out.

"Otou-san will be sitting right here," he pointed to a bench a little ways off the main path, "and I don't want you wandering off too far, okay? We can head home after getting some gelato."

Tsuna cocked his head.

"What's gel-a-to?"

"Oh, it's Italian. Ice cream. Very yummy." Distracted by the phone's incessant ring, he waved the boy off, and flipped his phone open. "Moshi-mosh? Yes; I'm still in Japan. What's wrong?"

Tsuna knew when he'd been dismissed, but he still lingered for a few seconds before shuffling off.

As promised, Iemitsu sat on the bench and kept an eye on Tsuna while the person on the other end attempted a few mangled sentences in Japanese. He cringed inwardly when his subordinate's voice took on a very panicky note and started swearing in Italian, so he saved him further embarrassment by switching to the same language.

«Breathe, Turmeric. Just because I'm in Japan doesn't mean I've suddenly forgotten Italian.»

«Oh. Right. Of course. Sorry boss; I know this is a terrible time to be calling, and I didn't really want to make the call because you know my Japanese isn't up to par, and I know I shouldn't disturb you while you're on vacation and with your family…» Turmeric continued to blabber, but since he was still at a tender age of twenty, Iemitsu patiently waited it out. He'd have to train him in the art of relaying information when he got back.

While his subordinate tried his best to talk it through, he scanned for Tsuna again, and spotted him by the tall palm tree to the side of the road. He seemed to have increased the intensity of his search for a different bird, as he was craning his neck towards the sky.

«…but…you NEED to come back!» The last sentence was practically a wail, and he turned his attention back to Turmeric. « _HE_ has discovered the truth of his heritage, and is now leading a full-scale revolt against Vongola headquarters!»

It took him a moment to realise who Turmeric was talking about, but the revelation managed to shock the happy-go-lucky Iemitsu out of his seat.

« _WHAT?!_ Him and what army?! And tell the whole story, from the top! In summary form!»

«It-it's the Varia, sir!» Turmeric's nervousness betrayed him, and he cursed his own fear. But he never expected to be thrown in a rebellion this big so soon after formally becoming a part of CEDEF. «I'm not sure how, but Xanxus-sama discovered that he's not actually Nono's illegitimate child. You know how strong his ambition to become the Decimo is, right? And he has quite the temper.»

A few distant explosions crackled through the hum of static, and Iemitsu started to pace, fearful for his boss' and subordinates' lives. He sensed rather than heard Turmeric wince, then some shuffling and panting rustled through the phone as the other man ducked into a safer place before continuing.

«He took five of his most loyal subordinates in the Varia. There's only a grand total of six of them, but they're talented, mafia-trained, and former famiglia. And you know how he has the 'Flame of Wrath'; even Nono's guardians are having trouble with him!»

«What about other CEDEF members? Or our close allies, like the Chiavarone? Surely you're not _all_ out of commission, are you?»

«W-well, Saffron, Nutmeg, and Dino are working together to somehow hold off Squalo, but I doubt they'll last for long. I hope them being…former classmates will mean that the swordsman will take it easy on them, but I highly doubt it. His first and foremost allegiance is to Xanxus-sama. Other Vongola allies were either uninformed to prevent this scandal from spreading, while most of our closer allies are either busy with something else, or sitting back to let us deal with our 'internal problem'.»

The man paused, and muffed yelling sounded through before the world around exploded again. Iemitsu waited with baited breath, and breathed relief when Turmeric's voice came through once more.

«As for me, I only managed to get away because Saffron told me someone had to report to you. A few others helped hold off some of the other Varia members while I slipped away. Everyone else…» He trailed off, and Iemitsu can pretty much guess the rest.

Swearing a storm of all the curse words he knew from several dictionaries, he racked his brain for the best course of action while trying to calm down. It would do him no good as the CEDEF leader to falter now, especially during a time of crisis.

«Turmeric. I want you to listen, and listen carefully.» He paused so the younger man's heavy breathing could even out a little. «Do not, I repeat, do _NOT_ engage the enemy. Leave the rest to Nono and his guardians; I'm sure they can handle a few rampaging children. Instead, I want you to start combing and clearing the area of any survivors systematically, starting with the room Squalo and Dino were in. If they're still fighting, tell Dino to retreat for his father's and his famiglia's sakes. If Squalo insists on pursuing, tell him that Xanxus is currently fighting against the Nono and his guardians. As for me, I will get on the first plane headed to Italy to deal with the aftermath.»

He paused to let it all sink in, before continuing carefully and clearly.

«And last, but _most_ importantly, if you at any point find a nine-by-fourteen ebony box with golden-ridged edges, the Vongola crest embossed in gold on the top, and a lock in the shape of a golden clam in front, take it with you. Hide it somewhere safe; somewhere only you would know.»

He gritted his teeth, knowing that if any one of their enemies got a hold of this piece of information, he'd have just signed a death sentence for Turmeric. But until he got there himself, he would have to trust in the loyalty and strength of his young charge, and in the rest of the CEDEF members – that what they lacked in strength, they made up for in their teamwork and devotion for one another.

«That is all. Are you ready to carry out orders?»

Static reigned for a few heartbeats, then his subordinate's voice sounded out loud and clear.

«Yes boss.»

The call ended, and Iemitsu shook his head to clear the tense atmosphere they'd created.

 _What a disaster._

He slowly massaged his temples with calloused fingers, feeling much older and wearier than his thirty years. It came with the job description, but it didn't mean he'd ever gotten used to it.

Despite the end of the call and his promise to get back to headquarters as soon as possible, he still couldn't shake the stone that had settled in his stomach. It'd been niggling at him ever since he picked up the phone, and the sense of dread had increased when he learned of the Vongola's plight, but it should have calmed to a simmer after he'd given instructions to Turmeric.

Iemitsu learned early on to never dismiss his sixth sense, even when it sounded with seemingly no reason.

The man scanned his surroundings again, looking for the slightest hint of danger. But rather than finding danger, it was more like something…was missing…

 _TSUNA!_

His mind finally kicked into full throttle, and he whipped his head around, trying to spot a mop of brown hair.

"Tsuna! TSUNA! Where are you?" He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, knowing it wouldn't help anyone. "TSUUUNAAA!"

A few sympathetic expressions from other parents turned his way, but when he didn't get the desired response, he scrambled around, looking for any clues on where his son might have gone.

 _I_ told _him not to wander off! What if he's lost? What if he's hurt? Or – dear God – what if an enemy famiglia–_ His brain clamped down on his heart, refusing to finish that sentence until he'd found proof.

He'd never been the best at tracking, but for Tsuna, he would dredge up every last ounce of the skill. Taking a deep breath, Iemitsu forced himself to look at the land in the most objective and attentive manner. The last time he'd seen Tsuna…was over there, by that palm tree.

Walking over and off the paved path, he bended towards the grassy area, taking care not to disturb the marks that were left behind.

There were a few bigger footprints made of crushed grass, _most likely made by the groundskeeper watering the trees_ , his mind supplied, but he found a trail of tiny footprints leading off the grass, onto the paved road (he lost the trail there, but it picked up again in the grass on the other side of the road), over the foot-high fence and into the small forest.

He reached into his back pocket to pull out the complimentary map the ticket seller had given him, unfolding it and smoothing out the wrinkles.

 _Seems like Kokuyo Land was built in the forested land between Kokuyo and Namimori_. _We were at the sanctuary…that's to the east of the zoo…and I sat on this bench here. The palm tree is outside the sanctuary; where his trail starts again is on the outer edge of this forest between the zoo and the theatre. The rest of the forest is walled off by rocks and a mountain, although I doubt he'd wander_ that _far._

He hmmed, thoughts churning with emotion.

 _Maybe he cut right through and ended up at the theatre. But for now,_ he glanced around surreptitiously and hopped the fence, _I'll follow the trail of breadcrumbs._

* * *

It was easy to see where Tsuna had gone, as the young boy had no training on how to conceal his tracks. He moved as fast as he could without missing out on any new clues and kept an ear trained on the closest speakers, as the staff at Kokuyo Land used the PA system to broadcast closing times and the occasional lost child announcement. He also kept his son's trail intact, in case he needed it later.

All the while, his sixth sense kept egging him on, and it took a sheer force of will to keep his heart and mind calm. Until a flash of scuffed white stood out against a small clearing.

He stopped, and picked up the object.

It was Tsuna's shoe.

It was funny in a not-funny kind of way, how he worked so hard to control the clamouring of thoughts, and now his mind ceased to think.

So his heart took over, and for the first time in his life, he ignited his Hyper Dying Will mode without the pills in his inner pocket.

 _One set of small footprints, by themselves. Tsuna had found what he was looking for, as the small flattened patch of grass shows he turned around in the same spot a few times. To the left, a set of large footprints, almost as big as my own. They lead in from the front._ He followed them a few metres away to a spot behind a tree, where the man would've been completely concealed from an unsuspecting Tsuna.

He inspected the area, the orange flame on his forehead burning fiercely.

 _A faint scent of smoke and gunpowder left on the bark. A chain smoker then, but one that wasn't smoking at the moment. And someone familiar around guns, but if he was armed, he didn't fire. No blood, bullets, or burns. Probably a dealer, yakuza, mafia, or gun-enthusiast._

He extracted a thin green thread from the crevices in the bark, and spotted several more in the same general area.

 _Someone leaned against this tree, wearing a green cotton shirt, most likely to blend in with the environment. Height of where the thread was found indicates his shoulders are about two centimetres above mine. An unusually tall man then, who was waiting here. But what for?_ Further inspection didn't reveal anything else, so he pocketed the thread and traced the trail back to the small clearing.

He ran after the other set of footprints this time, the ones leading towards the other side of the forest.

 _No sign of Tsuna's backpack, so he must've taken it with him. And clumsy, seeing as he left this trail for me to follow. Either a panicked grunt in the mafia, or an opportunist who has an interest in young boys and guns._ His mouth set into a grim line. _But both will be dead by the time I get my hands on them,_ he promised.

He pushed himself to a deadly sprint, his Hyper Dying Will mode allowing him to process information ten times faster than he normally could, eyes missing nothing – not the widening distance between each of the kidnapper's footsteps, nor the broken branches and fallen leaves along the path. The scumbag was desperately trying to escape with his son, but Iemitsu's instincts boiled hotter than the hell that waits for all those who dared to harm his family.

He broke through the last of the trees a moment later, and forced himself to slow down as the trail ended again on concrete pavement.

The sun was already beginning to set, and it was almost five-thirty. Nana-chan would've started cooking the rice by now, and dimly, Iemitsu heard the speakers announce that it was thirty minutes until closing time.

 _Wait a minute – the staff!_

He raced along the path, realising with a curse that the kidnapper had finally wised up and hidden himself by sticking to concrete. So he headed straight for the exit, asking the staff he met along the way whether they'd seen a six-year-old with messy brown hair or a man taller than him wearing a green shirt. He practically growled his frustration when their startled looks revealed their ignorance, and it wasn't long before he reached the exit gate.

 _Useless, all of them._

The last of the visitors were trickling through the turnstiles; some couples, but mostly parents and their children. He scanned them all for Tsuna and his kidnapper – whether they were as small as Tsuna, possible adults who could be holding or carrying something that could fit a child inside, or whether they were a giant wearing a green shirt.

He watched them like a hawk, mindless of the time as it crawled to six, and kept looking, even after he'd been shooed out and the gates closed.

All of a sudden, he looked up, and realised he was alone.

"Tsuna?"

He jogged down the road that led from the parking lot to the highway where the bus stop was located, hoping they'd been delayed by rush hour traffic. He traced the last of the visitors climb onto the bus that headed home, and those who didn't take the bus all merged into the highway traffic in the luxury of their cars.

"Sir? Are you getting on?" The bus driver asked, but he shook his head numbly, allowing him to drive away. Tsuna wasn't on the bus – he checked.

He looked back, and all the cars were gone. The bus and its waiting passengers were gone. His son was gone.

The stone at the pit of his stomach grew until he choked on its ashes, and he sank to his knees. The flame on his forehead petered out, but not before he could wrench out one final word.

" _TSUUUUUUUNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!_ "

* * *

AN: Cliffie. And there will be more to come. Any predictions? Leave a review to let me know! Any and all support is much appreciated.


	3. The Crow

AN: I couldn't find a suitable nursery rhyme about crows, so I wrote my own. I'm quite fascinated by bird symbolism; there's more to it than the first glance.

 **SPOILER ALERT (unless you've read up to the Varia arc):** In response to a reviewer, I know it's confusing to write that Xanxus is "not Nono's illegitimate child", but being "not illegitimate" doesn't make it "legitimate". Basically, Xanxus was thought to be a product of his mother and Nono getting together outside of marriage (hence the "illegitimate" part), but then he discovers that he's not a bastard child at all - not Nono's one anyway, which means he's completely unrelated to Nono. Hope that helps.

The new character here is of my own creation, but he _is_ related to someone in the KHR universe. Otherwise, the disclaimer still applies. And don't worry; the main characters will be here soon enough. The focus is still on Tsuna.

Onwards to chapter 2!

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _A crow of murder  
_ _With a decoy nest;  
_ _What would be found  
_ _And what will be wrest?_

* * *

 _Chapter 2: The Crow_

When papa waved him off, Tsuna fought hard to keep the pout off his face, but only managed a few seconds before he walked away to sulk. In the back of his mind, he knew the call was important as it was rare for his father to look so serious around him, but being ignored always made him feel so small.

He hated being small. It gave mean boys the chance to bully him.

 _If only I can be as tall as otou-san is; then I'll be safe! And important!_

He set his mouth in determination, although he faltered at the idea of eating more veggies. He hated his veggies, but okaa-san always tricked or bribed him into eating them.

Oh! But papa promised ice cream after the phone call, so he allowed himself to forgive him for being busy, even though they're supposed to be having fun together. He smiled inwardly, relieved that he didn't have a reason to stay mad at his father for long.

 _Okay. Time to find that one last bird so otou-san can listen to us sing!_

With renewed determination, and knowing that time was running out, he walked a little further away towards the tallest tree, glancing back every once in a while to make sure that he wasn't 'wandering too far'. He knew his beloved birds preferred tall trees to be closer to the sky, so upwards he looked while wondering if he should sing something to coax them over.

« _CHE COSA?! Lui e quale esercito?!_ »

He jumped at his father's raised voice, and saw him looking quite upset.

Tsuna frowned. This was the other reason why he hated these 'secret calls' – they made his otou-san sound so serious, even when speaking in a foreign language. And when they upset him enough to raise his voice like now, he knew it wouldn't be long until his father would be walking out the door and declaring he'd left to 'become a star'. Even though it sounded cool, it made him and okaa-san sad to see him leave.

 _But…is there a way to make him stay?_

At that moment, there was a rustle of leaves coming from behind, and he turned to see a bright yellow bird sitting on the bush next to the tree. It was as small as Tsuna's hand, even with its fluffed-out feathers.

 _Ooo! It's a different bird! It looks like…a baby chicken?_

The 'chick' suddenly took off in an uncertain flight, making tight circles in the general direction of the forest.

"Ah…wait!" Tsuna panicked, scrambling after the bird while trying to keep an eye on where his father was at the same time.

"Hoh-hokekyo! Or um, kuku-kuri?" He tested out different bird calls, hoping one would make the yellow chick interested enough to fly towards him, but none of them worked.

To Tsuna's relief, it landed not too far away – this time on a low branch of a tree to the opposite side of the fence.

He walked right up to the low railing; low enough for even his short stature to climb over, and he hesitated.

In the back of his mind, he could hear his father's voice echoing, "Now don't go wandering off too far," layered with all the other times either his mother or father had said similar things about strangers and dangers and blahblahblah. But birds weren't dangerous, and if it concerned their happiness as a family, then…

He looked over again, and saw his otou-san's frustration in his expression and in the way he walked back and forth.

He made up his mind.

 _I'm not 'wandering off' anyway; I know exactly where I'm going! I think._

With that thought, he hopped over the fence just as the bird flew off again, deeper into the woods.

* * *

Maso De Luca's fingers twitched for a cigarette that he can't have.

 _Stupid superior just had to send me on a stupid mission where I can't have even one bloody cigarette because it might,_ might _scare away my stupid target,_ he groused to himself. His neck was already aching from looking skywards too much, and so far, his search turned up with a big fat nothing.

 _«It'll be easy, even for a rookie Mafioso like you,» he says! Well, newsflash Signore Sadistic-Marchesi – I'm looking for one of the rarest songbirds in the whole of Japan, in the middle of a frickin' amusement park because_ someone _didn't do their frickin' research! And then it turns out this bird is most likely non-existent!_

He sighed, carding a hand through his cropped black hair. Indistinct, ordinary, and average, if you ignored his height. But 'average' just about summed him up, which was probably why he was sent here instead of somewhere with a higher success rate, like, say, the American National Bird Sanctuary. In addition, his superior somehow found out about his embarrassing past of being a huge otaku, and while he understood the logic («An Italian who can speak Japanese? Let's send him to Japan!»), it still made him feel like a dog being led around by the nose.

However, he couldn't say no even if he wanted to, not when he was so low on the pecking order. If he even _made_ the pecking order.

Subsequently, he found himself relegated to the oriental side of the world with little to no hope of finding the fabled "Golden Canaries" of Japan, which – according to the bird-keeper he met yesterday – died off about six years ago despite breeders' efforts to save them. Although the hour-long lecture about different native birds was more interesting than he'd expected, it just made his current prospects worse, because now it meant he'd wasted an entire week. And even after obtaining this bit of information, he still had to check every last corner, because he knew that all who failed a mission will be punished, excuses be damned.

He shuddered, and refocused on his task. The list of possible areas grew smaller with each trip he took, and so did his future prospects.

 _The only other areas left after this one are either little kiddie parks or people who own a canary for a pet, and I'd rather shoot myself than let it come to_ that _._

He paused to squint at a bird hopping about to the far left, but it ended up being a common sparrow.

 _Kill me now_.

He trudged on while remaining as quiet as possible, frustration warring with his sense of duty, when someone's soft singing drifted in, clearing a path through his haze of thoughts.

He whipped his head around, wondering if he was hearing things when it stopped. But it started again, stronger this time, and he cautiously followed the sound until he could see a small clearing.

There, off to the side, was a brown-haired bambino with a yellow bag, and he was singing a happy tune in Japanese. His back was to the older man, so Maso quickly manoeuvred himself to a better vantage point behind a tree, then leaned in for a closer look.

" _Mi~dori tanabiku, nanimori no!_ _Da~i naku shou naku, nani ga ii._ "

The boy looked no older than four, and to his surprise, he was singing to…a bird. A yellow bird.

His bubble of hope burst just as quickly as it came, as Maso realised it was just an ordinary domestic canary. Golden canaries were supposed to have golden eyes (hence the name), but this one had the same black eyes as a normal canary.

 _Looks like I'm screwed unless I can find a way to turn lead into gold._ He sighed, resigning to his fate.

" _Mi~dori tanabiku, nanimori no!_ "

The kid seemed to be a little more stubborn as he repeated his song, gentling his voice until he sounded as sweet as honey.

" _Mi~dori, tanabiku!_ "

It called back, and the boy's face split into a huge smile.

" _Wah! Suge!_ "

In his excitement, the boy stepped closer to the bird, and Maso rolled his eyes, fully expecting the bird to take off in fright. To his astonishment, it gave a happy chirp instead, and hopped into the bambino's outstretched hands.

" _Mi~dori, tanabiku!_ "

" _Nanimori no! Da~i naku shou naku, nani ga ii!_ "

Boy and bird sang, one teaching, the other learning, and Maso listened, unwilling to disturb the duet. But as he listened, a dangerous idea began to form in the recesses of his mind.

A stupid, outrageous, risky-as-hell idea, but if he could pull it off, it could very well place him in the Hall of Fame among his famiglia, turning his misfortune on its head. And he _did_ just decide to give in to fate, and fate brought him a singer, even though it wasn't the one he was looking for.

Maso knew no matter what song a bird was singing or how beautifully it sang, it would always still be…well, a bird. And no bird could ever take the sweet crooning of a human voice, as being proved by a child and his canary.

A child who was currently alone, and with enough potential that even an untrained, ordinary, and average man like Maso could see. Enough for him to earn forgiveness from his famiglia's wrath.

His feet started moving before his mind caught up, and in a split second, he held an armful of stunned, then struggling child. He'd already clamped a large hand over the boy's mouth, and the boy's pathetic attempts to scream and to kick and claw him were useless against a grown man, let alone a Mafioso.

Pure terror made the boy desperate, but Maso was desperate too.

 _Run, stupid, RUN!_

His mind finally kicked in and he fled the forest, heading back the way he came in. He wasn't sure how long it would be until the boy would be found missing, but he wasn't taking a single chance. This was his ticket to stay alive, and possibly even be promoted, and he would fight tooth and nail for whatever he could have.

Once he broke through the copse of trees, he skidded to a stop, instincts firing around. Luckily, there were no passersby in his vicinity, and he forced himself to calm down enough to do a quick survey.

First, he checked the kid, and frowned when he discovered he'd passed out.

 _Crap. I must've covered his mouth_ and _nose by accident_.

But he could feel the shallow breathing of the boy skittering across his arm, so everything worked out in the end. Now he wouldn't have to force the boy's cooperation into pretending they're related, or whack him unconscious in broad daylight. He also noticed that one of the boy's shoes had come off at some point, but it was too late to go back for it. Instead, he took off the remaining shoe and moved to place it in the boy's backpack, then found something else he could use.

Pulling out the light green hoodie, he dressed it over the kid's shirt and tugged the hood down to cover as much of his messy brown hair as possible. He did the same with his own jacket, then shifted the boy so it looked like he was sleeping against Maso with Maso's arms still carrying his body. They would now look like a matching father and son to any prying eyes, and Maso prayed the impromptu disguise would hold, at least until they were on a plane to Italy.

Slipping an arm around to secure the boy, he walked quickly but as leisurely as he could towards the exit, making sure to stick to the concrete path. He was foolish enough to leave signs of where he'd been, and he couldn't afford any more mistakes.

He avoided being in the direct line of sight of as many people as he could without making it look unnatural, then went through the gates and straight to the parking lot where his rental car was waiting, strapping the boy in before climbing in the driver's side.

 _Almost there, almost there,_ he chanted, and the car rumbled to life just as he heard the tinny announcement that it was thirty minutes to closing time.

He pulled out and up onto the highway, narrowly missing a bus that had slowed to a stop, and it wasn't until they were cruising at a comfortable speed that he realised the enormity of what he'd just done.

He glanced at the boy strapped in the passenger seat, and tried to quash the feeling of guilt in his gut.

 _I did it. I actually did it._

* * *

AN: If anyone manages to guess which famiglia Maso is from (you can PM me if you like, but no spamming please), I'll post the next chapter up earlier. :) I'm keeping to a 3-day schedule, but some of these chapters will be long, so please bear with me if it takes longer than usual.

I'm also trying to keep any swearing to a minimum, but the rating of the story may go up due to a number of different factors. This _is_ a story about the mafia, and I know it's nowhere near as pretty as Amano-sensei makes it out to be. There will be violence, child abuse, illegal activities, etc. Hell, I've already included neglect and child kidnapping, and that's the least of Tsuna's problems. There won't be anything too graphic, but that doesn't mean the aftermath will be any better.

On another note, my favourite animal character in the whole KHR universe appears! If only for a brief moment. Don't worry; he'll be back. Eventually.

As always, thank you for the continued support.


	4. Intermezzo: Uno

Disclaimer: Apart from Maso, I don't own any of the characters mentioned below.

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _Intermezzo: Uno_

It took another five minutes for Tsuna to blink awake, all fuzzy and bleary. Then the memories of a giant man grabbing him made him bolt, only to be jerked back by a seatbelt.

"Took you long enough."

His head whipped around to see an older man with black hair and smirking eyes, although his mouth wasn't smiling. Every warning bell in him tingled with alarm, and he started struggling to get the seatbelt off, only to have a rough hand clamp down on his own.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, unless you plan to jump out of a moving car."

He caught the threat in the stranger's voice and froze, too frightened to even breathe.

 _I'm gonna die, he's gonna kill me and otou- and okaa-san were right why didn't I_ listen _? and I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry–_

"Oh relax, I won't _throw_ you out." The man chuckled to himself, but Tsuna failed to see the joke. "But if you want to live, I suggest you do everything I tell you to do."

Oh god. That did _not_ sound any better to the six-year-old boy, but he could only nod with a pale face and wide eyes.

The man's hand moved back to the steering wheel, but it didn't make him feel any safer. He kept getting sidelong glances from the stranger, and he shrank back as much as he could.

"Didn't know you'd be the quiet type. Or are you just slow?" The man frowned. "Do – you – understand – me?"

Now _that_ was just rude, and Tsuna swallowed back some of his fear.

"Who…who are you?"

His voice came out as a squeak, and the stranger huffed out a laugh.

"Wow. Are all Japanese kids as girly as this?" He sighed as if disappointed. "Oh well. I'm the one who picked you, and beggars can't be choosers. Anyway, you can call me oni-san."

"B-but I don't have a brother." Still gir- _squeaky_.

"Well, you do now. And I'll hit you every time I hear you calling me anything else."

Tsuna's eyes widened to saucers.

"You-you can't! _Ow!_ " The pain registered before the shock, and Tsuna's hand flew to his now-bruised shoulder.

"I warned you. Now, _what_ are you supposed to call me?"

Tears pricked the corner of his eyes, and he hugged himself tight to try to stop them from falling.

"O…oni…san."

"Can't hear you."

"Oni-san." _Just listen to the bully, Tsuna. At least until you can go home, and otou-san can make him go away._

"Good."

His 'oni-san' nodded in satisfaction, eyes back on the road.

He sniffed, and he tried to steady his wobbling breath, but the overwhelming _wrongness_ of everything made all the walls he tried to put up come crashing down as he started to sob.

" _Oh for the love of –_ what is it _now_?!"

"I-I-I w-w-want o-okaa-san a-and o-o-ot-tou-san!" Tsuna was wailing by now, and the hiccups caused by a full-blown panic made it difficult to talk. "I-I-I w-wanna g-go _h-h-home!_ _W-where're y-y-ou – w-where is o-o-oni-s-san t-t-taking m-m-me?_ _W-w-what does o-oni-san w-w-want f-f-from me?!_ "

He dissolved into hysterics, and the older man heaved a sigh of frustration before pulling to a stop on the side of the road.

"Stop that crying. Now."

His voice was soft yet had a dangerous edge to it, and Tsuna tried his best to calm himself. He scrubbed his eyes and nose with the back of his hands, and gave the man a teary look. The stranger's expression softened a little, then he sighed.

"Look. I'm sorry, but you have to come with me for a while. This oni-san is in some…well, a _lot_ of trouble, and only you can help me."

"W-what? B-b-but Tsuna isn't good at anything!"

"That's not true. I heard you sing."

"S-s-singing?"

"That's right. All you have to do is sing really well, and if your singing makes my boss happy, I'll let you go home."

Tsuna was too relieved to be suspicious, and he quickly nodded his head.

"P-promise?"

"I promise. Now," he dropped a packet of tissues in Tsuna's lap, "Clean yourself, and let's go on a little holiday, shall we?"

"A holiday?" The boy paused to blow his nose. "Where?"

Oni-san smirked.

"Italy."

* * *

The next three days were a whirlwind of activities. Tsuna was a wrench in Maso's plans, but if used correctly, he could turn him into a useful tool. First, he stopped at a department store to get some shoes and clothes ("You said you're six, but I got you stuff from the four-year-olds' section." "B-but okaa-san says I'm still growing!" "You'd better start eating your veggies then."). Then, he ran into the issue of how to smuggle a passport-less kid to Italy without getting caught. Stuffing the child into his suitcase was a tempting idea, but he knew it wouldn't pass security checks.

It took him a good three hours of burning the midnight candle while Tsuna slept on his hotel room's sofa, but after a lot of wheedling, deal-making, and bargaining, he managed to persuade the forger who worked for his famiglia into making a counterfeit Italian passport and mailing it to him via express shipping. He just needed to send the forger a picture, name, and birth date, and convince Tsuna into adopting a new identity.

Piece of cake.

"Why do I have to change my hair colour?" Tsuna asked for the third time, and Maso gritted his teeth with thin patience.

He was currently combing through Tsuna's hair with hair bleach and gloved hands, and he was quickly discovering that children were very squirmy.

"I _told_ you: my boss really, _really_ hates Japanese children. We have to change your hair colour so you look Italian, and then you'll have a higher chance of making my boss happy. But if you don't sit still, the hair dye will go into your eyes and make you blind."

That made the boy stop wriggling, but he still had a small frown on his face.

"Oh, alright." He lapsed into silence, watching Maso work around him. It was interesting at first, but Tsuna's nervousness made him fidget. "What colour is oni-san using?"

"Purple."

Tsuna's eyes widened in abject horror.

"Just kidding. You should be blond by lunchtime."

The horror didn't fade.

"...What's 'blond'?"

"Seriously? Yellow. Like Germans or Americans."

"Oh. Ooooh. I'll look like otou-san then. Hee."

"Hm." Maso finished applying the bleach, then stripped off his plastic gloves and dumped them in the toilet before closing the lid and flushing. "And now, we wait."

He gestured to Tsuna to sit on the toilet seat cover while he leaned against the dirty sink.

"While we do, we can come up with a new name for you."

"Eh? But Tsuna's always been Tsuna."

"Kid, I suggest that if you ever wanna go home, you need to stop thinking so much and just do as I say. _Capisce_?" He levelled a look that made the boy shrink. "As I was saying, we need to change your name."

"…H-how?"

"All I have to do is write your new name on your passport, and you'll pretend that's your real name."

"Oh. B-but I can change it back later, right?"

"…Sure. Whatever." Tsuna smiled in relief. "You will now be called 'Piccolo'." Tsuna's smile dropped.

"I don't wanna be named after a weird green alien!"

The kid was so easy to rile up.

"How about 'Mario'? Or 'Luigi'?"

"…"

"Too good for you. Baldasarre?"

"Bal- _what?_ "

"Mm. Too long."

All joking aside, they were on a tight schedule. He cast his eyes around the bathroom, then his hotel room, and paused on a forgotten book on his bedside table. He'd brought it with him to kill time on the flight from Italy, but he didn't have time to finish due to his all-consuming search in Japan.

" _Il Codice Da Vinci_ …Leonardo?" He looked at Tsuna, and Tsuna looked back. "Leo?"

"L-Leo?"

Maso nodded.

"Leo it is."

It took another hour to finish the hair, half an hour to snap a passport photo, and two whole days to send the photo to the forger and for the passport and plane ticket to arrive, but all that extra work and money spent made relaxing on the flight to Italy that much sweeter.

At least, until a blond Tsuna – now Leo – realised it was a twelve-hour flight.

* * *

AN: This is the first interlude. I will have one every few chapters or so; they're more "behind the scenes" than main chapters and will tend to be a little shorter. Because of this, the next chapter will come out a little earlier.

It took me longer than I want to admit to find a suitable fake name for Tsuna. But while looking through the Italian name directory, I came across a few interesting ones that made me laugh, because I can't imagine many parents wanting to name their child after such an established fictional character. Unless they were HUGE fans of said character.

One more thing: blond Tsuna = a younger-looking Primo. Ha! Anyway. More relevant characters coming up soon!


	5. The Sparrow

AN: Another new chapter, and another new OC. I had to make him and Maso up because the famiglia I chose to kidnap Tsuna didn't have enough named members in the KHR universe. He's what I imagine a real Mafioso would be like. But again, I don't own any other characters from _Katekyo Hitman Reborn!_.

WARNING: Some violence and mild swearing ahead.

And now, in the words of C.S. Lewis himself: "Onward and upward!" Or maybe it's more "downward", in Tsuna's case.

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _Who killed Cock Robin?  
_ " _I," said the Sparrow,  
_ " _With my little bow and arrow,  
_ _I killed Cock Robin."_

* * *

 _Chapter 3: The Sparrow_

Somewhere on the southwestern coasts of Italy, a middle-aged man read and re-read the short missive that arrived yesterday, thumbing the streak of silver in his beard in deep thought. His subordinate had used their standard code as they're all taught to do, but the evasiveness of his report made Gavino suspicious.

 _Either he's purposely being vague to hide something, or he messed up the code somehow._

He thought of the industrious Maso, and dismissed the latter idea. Contrary to what his lackey thought, Gavino sent him to Japan not only because he knew the language, but mostly because Maso had something most of his other coworkers didn't: initiative. Where other grunts would mindlessly follow instructions to the letter, Maso could work around a problem instead of fall straight into it.

It made him both an asset and a liability, because he could be unpredictable.

« _Found the bird, but will need training. Took a gamble only because Signore M is good at handling risks. Will need to schedule meeting with Signore M ASAP._ »

Gavino translated slowly in his head one more time, wondering at the puzzle hidden within the puzzle.

 _And what the hell does that mean?_

He sighed, and looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of his office.

Maso's plane would be landing sometime in the afternoon, and it was currently 10:08. All his other subordinates who were sent out on similar missions had already returned, and Maso was the last one left. Their debriefing was scheduled for 16:00; something Gavino secretly looked forward to. It would break the monotony of the week, and hopefully solve the dilemma that had been festering within their famiglia for the past few months.

He straightened his suit, and decided to finish his paperwork while he waited for a mystery to unravel.

* * *

«Signore Marchesi?»

Gavino looked at the clock, and saw it was 15:55 on the dot. He nodded, dismissing the subordinate with a flick of his wrist.

Smoothing his tie, he checked himself in the mirror before heading to the mansion's inner courtyard. He'd originally wanted to hold the debriefing in his room, but then decided against it.

 _Can't have birds and their shit ruining the wooden floors._

He made a few winding turns down the hallway and stairs, and soon found himself blinking to adjust to the afternoon sun. Already, he could hear a cacophony of different birds twittering, and he winced inwardly. At least the Don couldn't hear them while he was in his room.

His subordinates were standing around and chatting casually until they saw him, which made them snap to attention. Each was next to a cage filled with different birds.

«Welcome home, gentlemen.»

A chorus of «Thank you, Signore!» boomed out, and he nodded his approval.

«Report, starting from Piedro.»

The stocky man to his very left stood straighter.

« _Si Signore!_ As you can see, I've managed to capture the lyrebird and the grey shrike-thrush, both from Australia.»

Gavino looked, and sure enough, there were two birds chirping inside his cage. He inspected them for a brief second, then ever-so-casually took out his Colt M1911A1 and shot the lyrebird.

Noise and bird fell dead with nary a squawk.

He then levelled his gun at Piedro, pausing just long enough to make the man break out in cold sweat.

«S-s-s-signore?»

«Next time you fail to complete a mission, at least have the brains to know that you did. Or else I'll blow them right out of your head, if you _had_ any in the first place.»

He dusted the gunpowder off his sleeve, and returned the gun to its holster.

The petrified yet confused look he saw on the oaf's face showed the idiot _still_ didn't understand, and Gavino barely resisted rolling his eyes. It was unbefitting of a superior.

«You brought me a _female_ lyrebird.» Snickers from the others escaped, but they stopped when their boss glanced their way. «Next.»

As his lackeys sounded off one after the other, Gavino ticked the mental checklist he made of all the birds he'd wanted and assigned to each man. In total, they managed to net eleven out of the thirteen birds. One was dead, but they were still missing–

«Where is Maso?»

His subordinates looked at each other, unsure of how to answer a question they couldn't.

He sighed and reached into his pocket for his phone, but a soft clearing of the throat made him turn around.

Standing behind him was his giant of a subordinate, and Gavino was about to comment on his tardiness when he stepped out into the light.

There, in his arms, lay a sleeping child with a halo of messy golden hair.

The puzzling missive slowly clicked into place, and Gavino fingers twitched for his gun.

«Let's have that meeting, De Luca. Right now.»

* * *

«Please, have a seat.»

An eerie sort of calm descended, and Maso couldn't help the slight tremor running through his veins. He sat down anyway, and the boy he was holding shifted before settling again.

Signore Marchesi sat on the other side of the desk and wove his fingers into an x-shaped steeple.

«Report. Then explain yourself.»

The carefully constructed speech Maso had prepared on the plane melted into thin air, and he scrambled for the right words.

«Signore. I...I couldn't find the golden canary. It died out seven years ago. Unfortunately. I'm sorry.»

His superior hummed, grey eyes betraying no emotion.

«I...came across many domestic canaries in my search, but none had the golden eyes that mark a golden canary. In fact, I found one of the normal ones when – when I came across this child.» He indicated with a shrug, unable to move his hands because of said child. «He was alone with the bird, and _mio Dio_ , you should hear the voice he has!»

Gavino's brow furrowed.

«Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast, especially if the beast has never known music before,» he said, pointing out Maso's lack of experience in music.

«But _he_ was teaching _the canary_ how to sing!»

His outburst was loud enough to wake the boy, who yawned and rubbed the jetlag out of his eyes.

"Are we there yet?"

Soft brown eyes met a steely gaze of a stranger, and he yelped, clinging to Maso like a shield.

«Does he speak Italian?» The older man asked, feeling a headache starting to form between his eyes.

«Huh? Oh, no. He can barely pronounce his fake name without messing up on the 'L'.»

«You _renamed_ him?» Gavino let out a long-suffering sigh, then paused. «Wait. This is why our stoic forger was complaining the other day about a rush order, isn't it?»

Maso nodded while trying to pry his shirt out of the boy's fingers as discreetly as possible. He was still in the room alive and breathing, and he didn't want to push his waning luck.

«All the extra expenses are coming out of my own salary, of course. I wouldn't dream of letting Signore pay for it.» He took Gavino's nod as an encouraging sign, and boldly forged ahead. «But…well…when this child was singing, I was thinking how much _better_ he sounds than any chorus of birds I've ever heard. So I took a gamble.»

«You mentioned training in your missive though.»

«Well, he _is_ still a child. Even the strongest blade needs to be sharpened.»

His superior shot him a piercing look, and he wondered if he spoke out of turn.

«Cockiness doesn't suit a Mafioso. And actions speak louder than words.»

But he stood, motioned to Maso to stand as well, and addressed the elephant – or perhaps a more fitting animal would be a baby chick – in the room.

«What's your name?»

The boy still had his face pressed to Maso's shoulder, but Maso put him down and forced him to turn towards his boss.

"My boss asked what your name is. Answer him like we practiced."

"M-m-my name is Tsu-u-um, L-Leo." That earned him a displeased frown from both adults.

" _In Italian._ "

«S-s-sono Leo, Signole.»

Gavino scrutinized the trembling boy, snorting in derision.

«If all Japanese boys are like this, I pity the future of Japan.»

He motioned to Maso to step away, and he did. He himself barely took half a step towards the child when the child bolted towards the door like a frightened rabbit.

Quick as a whip, Gavino seized Leo's arm, nearly jerking him off his feet and making the boy cry out in sheer terror and pain.

«Look at me.» Leo looked anywhere but, so the Mafioso grabbed his jaw in a bruising grip and forced it upwards. « _Look at me._ »

He did, through tear-filled eyes.

Gavino studied the boy for a moment, taking in his soft face, soft hair, soft bones and _mio Dio_ was there anything about the boy that _wasn't_ soft? But when his grey eyes looked through the tears, he thought he saw a flash of fire burn through brown.

 _Hm. There may be some worth to this fiasco after all._

«Sing something.»

Leo looked at Maso, eyes begging him to help, and Maso obliged – though probably not in the way the boy wanted.

"He's telling you to sing. This is your chance, kid."

Doe-eyes widened, and looked back at his captor as if to confirm. Gavino released him, and demanded once more.

«Sing.»

Through sheer force of will, Tsuna calmed his haywire emotions. _If I wanna go home, I need to make this man happy. I_ have _to make him happy. For otou-san and okaa-san_.

He cast his mind through the list of songs he knew by heart, and easily settled on one.

It was a song he'd heard on the TV before, and he always begged his okaa-san to sing it to him before he went to bed. Even though it didn't have any words, it was one of his all-time favourites. He just hoped the terrifying man would like it too.

He closed his eyes and stilled, looking for what he called his 'safe place'; somewhere inside himself that he first found after he'd been bullied by the neighbourhood kids and went home crying.

 _There it is._

In the midst of the darkness, he found the flickering orb of orange gold light, steady and soothing all fears away. It thrummed with assurance, giving Tsuna a strength he never had.

The child opened his mouth, and sang.

To both men's surprise, it was a lilting, wordless lullaby(1). And while the singing wasn't what Gavino could call 'perfect', he could tell the gift was most definitely there.

The air in the room _moved_ with song, and even before the last note held and faded, Gavino's mind was calculating a storm, plotting the next course of action.

«Bravo, boy. You've just earned your ticket to stay.»

Maso grinned with unadulterated relief at having dodged a figurative and literal bullet, and translated for Leo.

"You did it, kid. He wants you to stay."

The boy turned to Maso, looking confused.

"B-but…but you said I can go if I make him happy." Brown eyes bled orange, and for a second, Maso sensed something dangerous.

"Didn't you say that? Didn't you say I can leave?"

"Uh…" _Crap_.

The hesitation was all Tsuna needed to catch him in his lie, and his jaw dropped in disbelief.

"You _said_ I can go home! You _promised_!" Tsuna pushed the warning bells aside, too angry and upset and _hurt_ to care about consequences. "I want to go home! I want my okaa-san and otou-san! _You promised me!_ _YOU_ _PROMISED!_ "

His beautiful voice bled into a high-pitched wail, and pushing past Gavino, he launched himself at his betrayer and started hitting him with all the fury a six-year-old could possess.

The older man's forgotten headache returned with a vengeance, and the last of his patience snapped. He lifted the writhing child by the back of his shirt, holding him just far enough so his kicks and punches hit nothing but air.

"Let me _go_! _I wanna go home! I WANNA GO HOOOOMME!_ " The child howled and sobbed at the same time, twisting his body and trying to get loose.

Gavino took hold of one of the boy's flailing limbs, and broke his left arm with a practiced _snap_.

" _Be quiet_."

Tsuna could hardly hear him over his choked screams, but he could feel an aura of death radiating from the man holding him. Tears rolled down in rivulets, and he couldn't breathe, his body and bones weeping in agony.

"You're a very, _very_ lucky boy. If you hadn't sung the way you did, I would have left you dead in a ditch on the side of the road. Instead, you get to stay."

"Listen carefully. I am _not_ Maso. I am not a friend, brother, uncle, babysitter, or even a stranger." He punctuated each word with a jarring shake of his arm. "I am a Mafioso, and you are our prisoner, and are only worth as much as we say you are. If at any moment you displease me or those in charge of you, I _will_ know, and I will punish you accordingly. But let me give you fair warning," he leaned in close to pierce the boy with cold eyes, "You do _not_ want to displease me. Do you understand?"

The boy gave the tiniest of nods, and was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor.

«Domani!» Gavino called while pressing the intercom button on his desk.

His bodyguard came within seconds, and stood to attention.

«Si Signore?»

«Pick that up over there, and lock him in the basement after the doctor sets his arm. Be quick.»

«Si.»

The burly man bowed, and took the boy out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Gavino turned to address the other man in the room.

«Maso De Luca.»

«S…si Signore?»

«While I'm amazed by your audacity in more ways than one, next time, I'd like you to practice a little more… _discretion_.»

He brought his gun out again, cocking it with a satisfying _click_.

Maso's jaw clenched.

«You went to Japan for a bird, and just happened to kidnap a child instead. That's fine, but you _do_ realise that there are consequences to every action; some more than others. Are you prepared for the responsibility of bearing them?»

«Si, Signore.» It wasn't like he had a choice anyway.

«Good. First and foremost, if you have compromised the famiglia in _any way_ –»

« _NO!_ » Maso practically jumped to his own defense. «I made _sure_ that I wasn't followed, and I disguised the boy. I also–» He was shot down with a glare and the touch of a gun's cold muzzle to his cheek.

« _As I was saying_ , if you have compromised the famiglia in any way because of this impulsiveness of yours, I will not hesitate to dispose of you. Whether or not you have will become clear sooner or later.» Gavino gave the loaded gun a lazy spin. «This whole affair will also have to be kept as secret as possible, even within the famiglia. We will work on a 'need to know' basis. The less people who know about this, the better, for the sake of the Don.»

«I understand.»

«Good. Next: as to your responsibilities, I now place… _Leo_ …under your care.»

Maso's eyes widened in surprise and apprehension.

«You will oversee his vocal training, as you requested, and feed him when required. You are also in charge of his rehabilitation to Italian culture. This includes learning the language, Italian songs, and anything else you deem necessary. I will set aside a suitable budget for you to work with, but any supplementary lessons will be paid for out of your own pocket.» He caught the growing look of dread, so he relented a bit. «For assistance, I will permit you to use Rossi, Paulo, and my son Enzo as you see fit.»

«Excuse me Signore? The _children_?»

Gavino waved it off with a hand.

«It's free labour. Besides, they're all teenagers in their last years of school. They could use the practice, revise the basics, learn how to make another submit to them...whatever excuse you want to use is fine with me.» He saw a nod, but the man still looked uneasy. «If you need an adult, you can take Piedro. Lord knows he's about as useful as a child, but the bumbling oaf can at least follow orders and walk into a bar without looking suspicious.»

«…Very well. Thank you, Signore.»

«I also expect you to keep up with your regular duties, although whether you do them yourself or assign someone else to do them for you is up to you. Last but not least, remember that his voice is the asset.»

He gave Maso a scrutinizing look.

«He is _not_ your child, nor is he a pet. He is a project; one that you have forced me to take. Since its potential does interest me, I will let your insubordination slide, but I want you to know that if there are no results by the end of next summer, you will take your project down to your own grave. If, however, this crazy project actually _succeeds_ ,» he paused for effect, «I will persuade our Don to reward you appropriately.»

Maso's eyes lit up, and Gavino knew he had him right where he wanted.

«Do I make myself clear?»

Maso bowed in acknowledgement and respect.

«Si, signore. But I do have one more question. And please pardon my last bit of audacity.» He kept his head bowed.

«…Yes? What is it?»

«When and where did you learn Japanese?»

* * *

 _\- 3 days ago, in Namimori, Japan -_

Once he'd come to his senses, Iemitsu had gone back, explained the situation to the manager, then demanded to see all the footage from the Kokuyo Land security cameras. To his frustration, all the man could do was apologise and say that all the security cameras inside the amusement park were fake. Only the ones stationed at the entrance and exit were real, and he needed police cooperation before he could look through those.

It was the only time he'd ever regretted choosing his profession, and turning away felt like he was giving up on Tsuna.

 _No. No way in_ hell _am I giving up. Besides, there are things a Mafioso and a famiglia can do that the police can't. But first…god. I have to tell Nana._

His wife was waiting at the front gate, hands wringing around her kitchen apron. The relief in her eyes when she saw him made him feel so damned _guilty_ and scared that he almost turned tail and ran.

"You're home! Where _were_ you? Why didn't you answer your phone? I thought you said you'd be home by five-thirty, and when you weren't here by then I thought I'd gotten the time wrong so then I called you–"

"Nana."

She stopped, registering the absolutely serious tone in her husband's voice.

The last time she'd heard him use it was when he said "I do."

"Umm…yes?"

"Nana-chan, I…well…I lost Tsuna."

She staggered back, dropping her apron on the ground.

"Wh-wh- _what_?"

Her husband stepped forward, trying to comfort and support her with a hand on her elbow.

"I got an emergency call from work, and I _swear_ I'd only taken my eyes off him for a few moments. By the time I was done, he was...he was _gone_."

He cringed inwardly. _God, that makes me sound like one of those people who should be arrested for parental neglect_.

"B-but…if you lost him, then all you have to do is go find him, right?" she asked hopefully, brown eyes that were so much like Tsuna's searching his. It made him want to punch something. Preferably himself.

"I know, and I tried. I followed his footprints, and they led into the small forest in Kokuyo Land. But then the trail ended, and all I found…was this."

He pulled out the single shoe, still small enough to fit inside his pocket.

Nana gasped, turning pale. The only thing holding her up was her husband's grip on her, and she felt her consciousness spiral sickeningly.

"Wh…wh-what?" she asked in a faint, detached voice that didn't sound like her own.

"Someone took Tsuna. I don't know who or why, but they did."

"D-did you tell the staff? The police?"

"Yeah. They can't do anything, though." He set his mouth in grim determination, tightening his arms around his wife. "But I know people who _can_."

Nana collapsed into a shaking mess against her husband, holding his shirt like a lifeline.

"Please…" she said in a tiny, begging voice that made Iemitsu want to kill something all over again, " _Please_ , bring him home."

He held her tight, his hand still clenched around Tsuna's shoe.

"I will. I promise."

* * *

(1): For those who are curious, Tsuna is singing Kagome's theme from _Inuyasha_.

AN: The plot thickens, and the circle gets smaller. I actually had a lot of fun writing Gavino - he's one of those characters that write themselves. But this is probably the most amount of screen time he'll get...for now.

I'd also like to point out that while female lyrebirds _do_ sing, they sing nowhere near as well or as often as the males do. Most songbirds that sing are male too.

Papa Iemitsu is on the loose! I've always thought the way he acts in KHR is too exaggerated and callous, so I wanted to write a version of him where I'm able to give him the chance to redeem himself. He'll never be a perfect father, or even a _good_ one, but at least he'll be more likeable than his canon self.

Thank you for all for the reviews and support! I eat them for breakfast.


	6. Intermezzo: Due

AN: A big THANK YOU! to all the feedback, faves, and follows. They do wonders for my typing speed.

Another interlude, but this one's a little longer. Disclaimer still applies. I also hold no claim over the brief mention of Totoro or Kenshin.

 **WARNING:** Slight mention of self-harm, plus more violence and swearing (in Italian).

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _Intermezzo: Due_

Maso dragged a hand over his face, his frustration reaching an all-new boiling point.

« _No,_ Leo; that's _not_ how you conjugate the verb!»

He cuffed the boy over the head, and Leo's pencil streaked an angry line across the notebook.

It was a whole new level of messed up; that he'd be used to this kind of routine where Leo would forget a word right after Maso had taught it, Maso would punish him in some way, and he'd accept the abuse with nary a complaint. Then Maso would feel cheated and start teaching again, and the whole cycle looped round again.

It was like rolling a boulder down a bottomless mountain, and Maso wasn't sure when it would stop.

 _This just confirms it – I never, EVER want to have children._

He was the type of person who didn't have the patience to wait for other people to catch up, and making him teach a child was an unusual form of torture for him.

It was just his luck too, to get stuck with one of the dumbest kids in existence. It was as if the boy wasn't even trying; like he just gave up somewhere between _then_ and _now_ and was waiting for the routine to break so that he would finally be free from the pain.

 _I would've sent him to the school for mafia kids, but it's definitely not in the budget._ He could also picture his superior waving his gun, saying « _He's a_ prisoner _, Maso, not a would-be Mafioso._ »

He sighed, and tried again.

"You still aren't getting the basic grammar right. I know Japanese doesn't have the same rules, but you're not in Japan anymore."

Leo kept his head down as if he was ignoring Maso, and Maso's temper flared again.

«Look at me.»

The boy's head shot up, fear creeping into his eyes at last. It was the only Italian sentence he knew by heart.

«Repeat: Good morning, Signore. Good afternoon, Signorina. Good night, Fratello. See you next week, Sorella.»

Leo stuttered through the first half, and blanked out on the rest.

Maso dragged a hand over his face again, wondering if this was what it was like to go crazy.

* * *

The three friends huddled together in the corner of the unused storage room, whispering to each other even though they knew the kid in the other corner wouldn't be able to understand them anyway.

«Boss(1), it's been two weeks, and he _still_ can't count to ten.»

«'Tch. I dunno why we're doing this. I mean, Maso's cool and all, and I know how busy he is right now, but if it wasn't because of your dad's orders I wouldn't even _touch_ the runt with a ten-foot pole.»

«Hey, what my father does is always for the benefit of the famiglia.» Enzo glanced at the despondent blond, and for a brief moment, doubted his father's instructions. He quickly shook it away though, and went over to the kid with renewed determination.

«Oi, kid. Repeat after me: chair.» He pointed to one, and repeated the word again as slowly as possible. « _Se-di-a_.»

A blank look, but otherwise no response. Enzo sighed, blowing his bangs out of the way before they settled over his eyes again.

«Maybe he was dropped on his head as a baby. It happened to Piedro, and look where he is now.»

He flicked the boy's forehead, eliciting a startled "Ite!"

" _Ite"? Where've I heard that before?_ He stared, and smiled slowly. _Ooooh._

"You. Boy. Japanese?"

Tsuna blinked in surprise, then nodded furiously, hope kindling in his eyes again.

"Y-yes! Do you speak Japanese too?"

"Slow down. I speak…little bit Japanese. Me, my friends, like manga and _Rurouni Kenshin_."

He made some sword motions with his hands, grinning even though he'd just admitted they were all otakus.

«Woah! Nice, Enzo! The runt is actually Japanese! Maybe he can tell us what it's like over there.»

«Hm. I'll need some help.» He turned to the largest of the three of them and waved him over. «Rossi, you're better at this. You say something.»

«B-but, aren't we supposed to teach him Italian? He won't learn anything like this. And Maso and your father are both expecting results.»

«I know, but we can't teach him anything if he doesn't want to learn.»

He grabbed Leo's unbroken arm, dragged him to the middle of the room, and sat him on the ground like a true teacher and student.

"We know Italian. You know Japan. We…trade."

Leo gave him a confused look, clearly not understanding the broken sentence.

"Enzo says we want you to tell us about Japan, and as a trade, you'll learn Italian." Rossi caught on to his friend's ingenious plan, and added a few words of his own. "Keep it a secret though. If you tell, we'll hang you on the pole in the garden to show people what we do to _traitors_. Understand?"

Tsuna nodded, relieved at meeting more Japanese speakers. Maybe they'll be nicer to him.

"Good. And you have to repeat everything we say when we tell you to. Every time you don't, we punish you." Rossi gave the boy a cheery smile. "You'll learn faster that way."

Everything came crashing down, and Tsuna swore to himself to never trust an Italian ever again. But he nodded anyway, knowing they would hurt him if he didn't agree.

«Okay. Boss, anything you want to ask him first, or make him say?»

«Hmmm.» Paulo rubbed his growing stubble of a beard, then settled on something. «Ohhh! I know! Repeat, " _Sono un pezzo di merda_."»

«Umm… _S-sono un...un pizza di meluda._ »

The teens howled with laughter, and Tsuna never felt more humiliated in his entire life.

* * *

«Report.»

«Si Signore. The boy – _prisoner –_ is adjusting, but very slowly. He's still struggling on basic sentences, and the teenagers are having similar problems, although they seem to take great interest in teaching him the more vulgar side of the Italian language.»

«Hm. That's fine, but make sure they don't leave out the formal side. I don't want him speaking to me, or god forbid, the Don with such language. What about his vocal training?»

«Ah…well…you see, he hasn't started that yet.»

«…He hasn't?»

«I-it's not like I haven't tried! I spent the last week looking for a suitable instructor, but because of the nature of our…project, the list of requirements is much longer than I thought it'd be.»

«I assumed you'd be smart enough to figure it out. Perhaps I have overestimated you.»

«…»

«Try reading the list out loud this time.»

«...Okay. "Someone skilled, but not famous. Someone who's alone and won't call attention to themselves."»

«Continue.»

«"Not currently a Mafioso, but retired or ruined. Knows how to speak at least some Japanese; enough to be able to teach. In addition, someone who's good with children, yet knows how to discipline." Pardon me, but that part I don't quite understand. Why does the instructor have to be good with children?»

«We don't want to spoil the kid, in either sense of the word.»

«Uhh…»

«Part of what makes our project unique is the prisoner's innate innocence. You'll know what I'm talking about if you think of all-boy choirs, such as the _Wiener Sängerknaben_ (2). That part of his voice can't be trained; it's a gift he's been given. It is…particularly _soothing_ on the ears.»

«Ah. I see. But…I still don't know which instructor I need to find.»

«A hint, then: men are not the only creatures caught up in the aftermath of our activities.»

* * *

Tsuna didn't even bother to crawl to his dingy mattress, too tired and bruised to care. It'd been a long, exhausting day filled with angry faces and fists and feet, and there were many more bad days than good.

Every morning, he's jolted awake by a short man's rough kick. There's no breakfast, so after brushing his teeth in the basement's tiny bathroom and changing out of his oversized white shirt, the short man would take him to his 'classroom': an empty storage room with a few scattered chairs and a desk. Oni-san would come in, try to teach him something, and fails because Tsuna isn't smart enough. He then punishes him in some way before the process repeats.

It only stops for lunch, when he's given a glass of milk and a roll of bread.

He always eats as slowly as possible.

After lunch is his lesson with the teenagers, as they didn't finish school until then. After a few hours of a different kind of torture, the day finally ends with another loaf of bread – _if_ he could tell Oni-san what he learned that day. In Italian.

If he gets dinner, he eats in his room. If he doesn't, which is more often than not, he tries to fill his belly with water from the tap in his bathroom. It helps a little, but it made him pee more often. And if the night is kind, he manages to get to bed and sleep.

He'd been going through this routine long enough to be wrung dry of tears and courage, not like the first day he'd arrived and sang that fateful song. The result was nothing but fear and overwhelming regret, and he wished to God that he hadn't sung as well as he did. Anything would have been better than…this.

Tsuna cradled his broken arm to his body, squeezing through the cast on purpose. He found out some time ago that the greater physical pain swamped his smaller ones, and helped him forget about the emotional ones too. It was a small comfort, but one nonetheless.

If there were anything he hated the most about being here, it would be the teenagers, because while Oni-san's lessons hurt, the boys' lessons _humiliate_ , and Tsuna didn't know how much more he could take.

At least Oni-san let him keep his backpack. The single shoe he kept after his struggle with the older man was useless, and the water and bandages have long been used up. The man had taken the soft green hoodie he got for his fifth birthday, so he didn't know where it went. As for the money, it didn't work here, proved by the teenagers when they took a thousand-yen note from him, went outside for a while, then returned with red faces and crammed a balled-up note down his throat. From their angry yelling, he could just make out that they tried to buy something with it, but it didn't go as planned.

He'd choked on the paper pellet, and was forced to endure another round of beating and kicking right after.

He was tired. Tired of not having enough to eat. Tired of this new life he had to endure. And more than that, so very tired of clinging to hope and missing his okaa-otou-home-birds-park-school- _life_ , but even more than being tired, he was afraid of forgetting.

Today, he tried to describe to the teens what people do during the Tanabata festival, but to his horror he burst out crying instead because he couldn't remember what he did last time. They'd made fun of him like usual, jeering and laughing about "some stupid dress-wearing festival", but Tsuna barely heard them over the crippling _terror_ that coursed through his heart.

He remembered afterwards: the memory of his okaa-san smiling and holding his hand so they could walk together to the local shrine, the wish he wrote, the games he played, and the cute girl he danced with to the steady beat of the taiko. But it made him feel worse, and that was how Oni-san had found him crying and curled on the ground.

He didn't have dinner tonight. And he had no way of knowing, but Tanabata had most likely come and gone. Even so, he could tell it was still summer because of the heat and the calling cicadas he could hear throughout the day.

There were some things that remained the same, even when he was in a different country.

 _I wish there was something I could do to tell mama and papa where I am._

A flash of inspiration suddenly struck, and he struggled to a sitting position so he could reach over to his bag. The money may be useless for buying anything _here_ , but maybe…

He took out the small Totoro-shaped purse, opened it, and turned it upside-down, allowing the coins to clatter onto the wooden floor.

 _Please please_ please _let there be one._

He spotted the gold-coloured coin as it fell, and snatched it up eagerly. It was a 5-yen coin that was a little darkened with rust on one side, but otherwise good.

 _Now for some string_.

After some thought, he carefully pulled the shoelace out of the lone shoe, and threaded it through the hole in the coin before tying the ends into a knot. He looped the string over his head, and felt the weight of the coin settle around his neck.

 _Next is…the ritual._

He stood slowly, mindful of his aches and pains, and bowed. Then he hobbled to the bathroom and washed his hands and mouth, being careful not to get the cast on his arm too wet. He'd done it once by accident, and Oni-san was angry that he had to take him to the doctor again.

There was no bell to ring, so he went back and put all the extra change back into the purse and shook it with a muffled tinkle before bowing twice and clapping twice. After that, he clasped the coin between his hands in a prayerful position, and squeezed his eyes shut.

He'd never been particularly religious before, but he found himself praying fervently to any god out there.

 _Please, if you're out there, please help me. Please._

He bowed one last time, and let the coin fall back. He knew he wasn't supposed to keep it, but he wanted it as a talisman of sorts: an invisible link all the way from _here_ to _there_ , his true home.

He yawned, suddenly feeling very sleepy, and he tottered over to the mattress and lay down. In the moment before he drifted off completely, he curled a hand around the coin, and prayed one last time.

* * *

(1): He's calling him "Boss" out of respect because Enzo and Rossi are Paulo's followers, not because Paulo is the Don.  
(2): The Vienna Boys' Choir.

AN: I think this might be my favourite interlude, even though I haven't written all of them yet. And cookies for anyone who can guess the upcoming character.

I've always wondered how so many people in the KHR mafia world can speak Japanese, even when they don't live in or are from Japan. My theory is that they're all secretly rabid fans of manga and/or anime. Think about _that_.

On a side note, I'll be away for the next week. I've written ahead so I can post while I'm out, but I can only do that if I have internet connection, and if my phone decides to cooperate with me. Even if I don't manage to update, don't worry - I'll definitely be back! This story is too fun to stop writing.


	7. The Turtledove

AN: I tried updating on my phone, then realised it wasn't possible. So apologies for the delay. Here's a long chapter to hopefully make up for that.

For the one reviewer who guessed the next character correctly, kudos (and cookies) to you!

 **WARNING:** Foul language ahead, because this is the mafia.

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _High in the pine tree, the little turtledove  
_ _Made a little nursery to please her little love.  
_ _"Coo," said the turtledove, "Coo," said she;  
_ _In the long, shady branches of the dark pine tree._

* * *

 _Chapter 4: The Turtledove_

It took him a while, and Signore Marchesi had to help him pull a few strings, but he finally managed to locate the vocal instructor they'd been looking for.

She lived in a traditional red-roofed condominium on the edge of town, and many of the houses here were old and run-down. But the potted plants and assortment of flowers around the door bespoke of a woman's touch, making the place look homelier than most.

In the cobbled alleyway, he turned to eye his captive critically.

Yesterday, Maso had taken some time to re-bleach and cut the boy's hair, and it was unsettling to see how much Leo had changed. His hair, while still messy, seemed to wilt instead of spike everywhere, even without the grey newsboy cap Maso made him wear. The clothes he'd gotten in Japan hung loosely on him, and he hadn't grown at all. And gone were the bright brown eyes, sunken and shaded with too many days indoors and a lack of food.

Most of all, he hadn't heard Leo sing a single note since that day in Signore Marchesi's office. In fact, apart from the garbled Italian he was forced to speak, the boy was pretty much silent, not even a hint of fight left in him.

It was harder than he'd like to admit to see what they were doing to an innocent child, but he was a Mafioso, and any form of kindness was weakness. And he will not be seen as weak; not if he wanted to survive.

He took a breath, and knelt so he was at eye level with the boy.

"Leo."

Dull orbs wandered over, and focused somewhere on Maso's mouth.

"I am now taking you to meet a new teacher." A subtle flinch; a sign he was listening. "She's a…retired musician, but she was one of the best before she quit. You will address her as Signorina, and listen to everything she tells you to do. Unless, of course, it goes against the rules we set back at the mansion. Do you remember the rules?"

Leo inclined his head in submission.

"Repeat them to me."

"…Do everything Signore says. Do everything Maso oni-san says, unless it goes against Signore. Do everything Enzo, Paulo, and Rossi oni-san say, unless it goes against Maso oni-san. If anyone but those five asks a question, don't answer unless allowed to do so. Don't tell anyone that Leo is a prisoner of the mafia, or else Leo dies." He recited everything in a voice barely above a whisper, and without complaint.

"And? What else?"

Leo looked a little stricken at that, casting his eyes about as if the air could give him the answer he forgot.

"Listen to the Signorina, and do what she says, unless it goes against all of the above. And if you tell her anything about your past or present, both of you will die. Capisce?"

Leo slowly mouthed the new rules to himself, then nodded.

"Good. Oh, and one last thing – since we have to keep everything a secret, I will introduce you as my younger cousin who needs singing lessons. And Leo," the boy caught the serious look he gave, " _don't_ mess this up. Because if at any point she refuses to be your teacher, then it would mean you've failed. And you know what _that_ means."

Leo's eyes dropped again, and Maso took that as a yes.

Maso straightened himself and took Leo's hand, falling into his "older cousin" persona, walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.

It creaked open, and Maso put on his best show of manners.

«Good morning, ma'am. May I please speak to Signorina Gokudera?»

* * *

Lavina gathered her silver hair into a simple bun, and hummed a whimsical tune while she watered the hanging plants on her balcony.

 _Oh what a beautiful mo-orning~! What should I cook tonight? Pasta? Rice? Or ramen? I haven't had ramen in a long time._

The knock on her door interrupted her thoughts, and she stopped to glance at the clock.

 _So early? Maybe it's the postman._

She put the watering pail underneath the plants to remind her to come back, then smoothed her lavender dress before opening the door.

A very tall stranger in a white polo shirt and black suit pants greeted her, and she blinked twice.

«Excuse me? Signorina Gokudera?»

«…Yes? May I help you?» she asked pensively.

«My name is Massimo Falco, and I would like to inquire about your music lessons. More specifically, your singing lessons.»

«Oh. I'm sorry Massimo, but I don't teach anymore. I hope you have better luck elsewhere.»

She tried to close the door, but he stuck out a hand and pushed back, easily forcing it open again. The man smiled apologetically, but he didn't look sincere.

She took a step back, a hand sneaking into her pocket for her pepper spray.

«Pardon the intrusion, but I _insist_. You see, I bring you a singing prodigy: one that can pique your interest into teaching again.»

Massimo pulled something behind him and stepped back to reveal a young boy who was staring at the ground.

The boy was tiny, and had dry blond hair sticking out from underneath a hat. He was wearing a light blue jacket and beige trousers that were a little too big for him, and when she looked closer she could see a white cast peeking out of his left sleeve. In addition, the boy was too pale and thin to be considered healthy, and her heart went out to him.

«This is my second cousin Leonardo, but we call him Leo for short. Leo, greet Signorina Gokudera.»

The boy called Leo lifted his head, and murmured «Salve, Signorina.»

She'd long forgotten her pepper spray when she looked into a pair of dead eyes, and she crouched down to touch his cheek, half in curiosity, half in utter horror.

Lavina didn't know what she was expecting, but certainly not the reflexive flinch as the boy shied away and ducked behind his cousin, trembling like a kitten out in the cold.

«Ah…I apologise. Leo tends to be a little jumpy.»

Massimo smiled the not-so-real smile again, and Lavina stood again, her thoughts and emotions churning.

«His family just moved from Japan, and his Italian isn't up to par. But I've heard that you can speak Japanese, so it'd be easier for him to learn. I'm trying to teach him some Italian myself, though Leo isn't the brightest of students. But he loves music and singing, and maybe learning some Italian songs will help him learn the language faster.»

The man nudged the boy forward again.

«Hey Leo. How about singing a song for Signorina Gokudera?»

The boy remained silent, and Massimo's grin twitched to a threat.

Lavina didn't like this. She didn't like where any of this was going, didn't like the giant in sheep's clothing, and she didn't care for the spoken and unspoken implications of this poor boy's situation. So she stepped in, standing as tall as she could against a 6-foot-3 man.

«I'll take him. I'll take him as my student.»

She almost laughed out loud at the dumbstruck expression on the man.

«…What? Wait. Don't you need to hear, like, an audition or something?»

He looked at her suspiciously, and she backpedalled a bit.

«Um, I meant, I will take him as my student _if_ he fulfills certain…requirements. And I have conditions of my own,» she quickly added, her mind already spinning an intricate plan. This "Massimo" was smart, but she could still outwit him if she played her cards right. «Have a seat. I'm going to get a glass of water.»

«Excuse me?»

She shot him a withering look.

«It's hot today, and I'm guessing you didn't bring a flask or bottle to rehydrate the boy. It's difficult to sing well with a parched throat.»

His silence betrayed his guilt, and she tutted before whisking to the kitchen. She grabbed a clean cup from the dish rack, and filled it with a mixture of water and a few spoonfuls of honey. She then went back to the living room and pressed it gently into the boy's hands, smiling as she did so.

«Here you go, Leo. Make sure you drink slowly.»

The boy blinked in confusion at the cup that seemed to appear out of nowhere, then looked hesitantly at his cousin who had taken a seat on the couch.

«Go on. And remember to thank the nice lady.»

Leo whispered a small _«grazie_ », sipping the sweet drink until it was gone.

She helped him place the empty cup on the coffee table, then sat down herself on the chair opposite to Massimo.

«Okay. Now you're ready.» She remembered what Massimo said, and switched to Japanese. She was a little rusty, but she could never forget her own mother tongue. "Leo-kun, can you sing _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_ for me please?"

Massimo sputtered in his seat.

"A _kid's_ song?"

She shot him a dark look. _Curses. He can understand Japanese._

But she continued as if his bilingualism didn't faze her.

"Yes, Massimo. He _is_ a child, so why not sing a children's song?" She turned back to Leo and gave him an encouraging smile. "Go on, dear. Pretend that no one's in the room, and sing your best."

Leo's eyes darted from Massimo to Lavina and back again, and seemed to be having some kind of internal struggle. But the adults stayed silent, one with a gentle expression, the other with apprehension.

He took a breath, and sang the song in a very quiet, very nervous voice. And Lavina noticed that throughout the entire song, he was looking more at Massimo than at her.

When he finished, she clapped politely.

"Alright! I think that's good enough."

She beamed a smile at the startled guys, and beckoned to the child. "Leo, can you come over here please?"

She saw him look back at the man again, who waved his assent, and he plodded over to her.

"Through that door is my study room, although I prefer to call it my music room. I need to discuss some official things with your cousin first, and while I do, feel free to sit on the piano chair and play the piano. I'll call you back when we're done."

He gave her the barest of nods before Massimo added a "Keep the door open Leo."

 _Hm. Doesn't want to let him out of his sight. I wonder if it's out of concern for Leo, or concern for himself?_

But she kept her speculations to herself, and turned to address the bigger problem.

 _Okay Lavina, it's now or never_.

«Massimo.»

«Yes?»

«While I do not mind all too much at being forcefully pulled out of retirement, I must ask: why do you want me to give him vocal lessons?»

«…Because you're the only one who can?»

She shook her head. «No; I didn't mean "why me", I meant why even bother giving him lessons.»

He frowned. «But I thought you approved of his voice. Don't you like his voice?»

«It doesn't really matter what _I_ think, Massimo. What matters is what Leo thinks, and I think it looks like he doesn't know what he's doing here. Do you know why I think he thinks that?»

She caught Massimo's uneasy look, and forged on.

«He's being abused. Did you think I can't see it in the way he reacts, in the cast he has on his arm, to the clothes he's wearing despite the summer heat?»

Massimo's eyes narrowed dangerously, but she stood her ground. _I've nothing to be afraid of. Not here, in my own home._

«…What are you saying?»

«What I'm saying is, we take his parents to the police. No parent should treat their own son like…like _this_."

She gestured towards the general direction of her piano room, and saw Massimo's face tighten.

«I…don't think that's a good idea.»

«What? Why not?»

«Because if his parents get convicted, then he'll end up as a ward of the state, or in an orphanage somewhere.»

«Can't one of his relatives take care of him?»

He shook his head. «Unfortunately, his relatives are either too poor, or have passed away already.»

«Oh. But how about you? I can see he relies on you, to some degree.»

Massimo looked surprised at that, but shook his head again.

«No can do. I can barely support myself, let alone a little boy. I'm just trying to help out as much as possible by taking him out for some singing lessons. Gives him something else to do than stay cooped up at home.»

She clicked her tongue in disappointment.

«…Look. Give me some time to save up a little more, and when I'm done, I swear I will turn his parents in myself. Honest to god.» He gave her a solemn look, and she considered, weighing her options. «Plus, he really does have a gift for singing. I can vouch for that myself. I think he's just not feeling it today.»

She gave him one last scrutinizing glance, then sighed.

«Very well. I will hold you to your word. But I still have a few conditions I would like to discuss.»

«Yes?»

«First,» she held up a finger, «Leo will come here to have an hour-long singing lesson every day except on Sundays. Mornings will be best.»

«Alright. I'll bring him here each morning at nine, and we'll leave an hour later. I don't start work until eleven anyway.»

«…You're staying for the lesson?»

«Well, at least until he gets used to the new routine. Is there a problem?» He gave _her_ an analyzing look, as if challenging her to say otherwise.

«No; not really. But I'll have to ask you to sit outside, or else I'll charge you too.» She giggled sweetly, throwing him off a bit.

«U-uhh…sure. Outside is no problem.»

«Okay. Next,» she held up another finger, «I require a fee. Since Leo will be coming so frequently, I can offer you a discount: fifty euros per lesson.»

Massimo face-faulted.

« _Fifty_?! At that rate, I'll never earn enough for anything, let alone…take custody over Leo!»

«Then, what would you suggest?»

He gritted his teeth. «Thirty.»

«Now I feel cheap, Signore! Forty, and not a cent less.»

« _Thirty-five_ , and not a cent more.»

«…Deal. I will send you an invoice at the end of each month. Now, thirdly, and _most_ importantly, you need to help me help Leo.»

«What do you mean?»

«Have breakfast with him, and if possible, lunch and dinner as well. I'm sure you've noticed how skinny he is, even for a child his age. He can't sing if he barely has the energy to walk. And trust me; singing takes a lot more energy than most people realise.»

He nodded with some reluctance.

«As for me, I will make sure to look after him during the lesson.»

«Very well; sounds reasonable enough. But I have a few conditions of my own.»

«Go on.»

«Try not to coddle him too much by speaking Japanese all the time. He has to learn to live here, in Italy. Also, please keep these lessons as much of a secret as possible. No entering competitions and whatnot. His…Leo's parents would have my head, and Leo's, if they found out. They think I'm out playing with him right now.»

«Understandable. Anything else?»

«One last thing. I'd like for you to teach him as many lullabies as possible, in any language you know.»

She blinked her eyes, puzzled at the unusual request.

«…Okay. May I ask why?»

«Look lady,» he scowled, finally fed up with all the bargaining and demands, «just don't pry too much, okay? For all our sakes.»

«Sorry, sorry.» She held her arms up in a placating gesture, then walked over to the music room, tapping gently on the door. "We're finished, Leo-kun. Can you come over here please?"

The boy appeared, shifting from one foot to the other. In the back of her mind, she registered his nervousness when she got too close, and the fact that he hadn't even touched the piano didn't escape her notice either.

 _Hm. I'll have to fix that later_.

She knelt down, looked into the beautiful honey-brown eyes, and said in her kindest voice, "Sweetie, I'm going to ask you one question, and I want you to know that it's fine to say no."

He looked up in surprise, and blinked an _okay_.

"Do you want me to be your teacher?" _Please say yes. Please say yes._

Leo's eyes lingered on hers, as if he were searching for something. And apparently, he found it.

«Si, Signorina.»

She beamed, clasping her hands together in absolute delight.

"Wonderful! Thank you, Leo-kun. I look forward to working with you."

He titled his head as if he didn't seem to know how to respond to her enthusiasm, but he nodded anyway.

"Well, Massimo. I guess that means I'll see the both of you starting from Monday."

"Wait, you won't start teaching today?" Massimo interjected.

She chuckled at his eagerness. "I'm afraid not. I need some time to figure out a lesson plan and curriculum for Leo-kun. I'll also have to do some research on the songs you want him to sing, and buy suitable books and sheet music, which reminds me – you'll be covering for all those, right?»

He opened his mouth in protest, but Lavina interrupted with a dangerous smile.

" _Right?_ "

"Uh-um, sure. Can't be too expensive," he stammered.

"Great!" She was all smiles again, and showed them out the door. "See you soon!"

She kept waving until they reached the alleyway and turned the corner, then went back inside and collapsed onto her bed, exhausted from all the impromptu scheming she had to do. But it was worth it. _Oh so worth it_ , and she giggled to herself while replaying the whole scene in her mind.

 _He had no clue; no_ idea _that he played right into my hands! Lavina, you've still got the magic touch, and it's not confined to the piano._

She revelled in her sense of triumph for a few moments, then sobered up when she thought of her new charge Leo-kun.

 _Something terrible is definitely happening to the boy, and it's not all caused by his so-called 'caretakers'. I've done all I can for now, but I'll have to find out how else I can help him without them finding out. To think there are people out there torturing an innocent child no older than my own…absolutely disgusting._

She reached over to pick up the picture on her bedside table of a young silver-haired boy pouting next to a grand piano, and her heart ached for him too.

 _Hayato…I'm sorry mama can't do anything for you. But I_ can _do something for Leo, and I will. I promise._

* * *

 _\- 1 week ago, somewhere in southern Italy -_

The blond sat in silence, trying hard not to fidget or eye the bandages and the wheelchair that surrounded his superior. He'd always known Nono's knees were giving him trouble, but the whole incident with Xanxus had unsurprisingly aggravated his condition.

«I'll be fine, Iemitsu.»

The current head of the Vongola famiglia, also known as Timoteo, seemed to sense the younger man's turmoil despite his efforts to hide it.

 _But then again, we've all been thrown into chaos_.

Iemitsu sighed, lifting his eyes to inspect the deceptively frail-looking man sitting behind a desk full of paperwork.

 _The damn Apocalypse can come and go, and there'd_ still _be paperwork to do._

It felt like it had, especially when he came back almost a month ago. Xanxus and the Varia had practically razed headquarters to the ground, scarring the earth and leaving wounds that will last forever. He'd been in the mafia long enough to be used to violence and death, but he wasn't immune to it all.

When he surveyed the damage for the first time, he'd felt a strange mixture of relief, grief, and boiling _rage_ at the sheer damage that had been done. Even visiting Turmeric and all the injured CEDEF members in the makeshift hospital ward was enough to make him put several holes in the previously untouched forest to the west of Vongola's land, and that was before he'd read the list of deceased.

It was during these times when he loathed his job with a passion.

The questions were always the hardest. Everywhere he went, he was faced with questions he either didn't want to or couldn't answer.

 _«I heard more explosions coming from the Vongola headquarters again. Wonder what they're up to this time. Care to fill us in, CEDEF?»_

 _«Where's my son? My daughter? My brother/sister/father/mother/lover/_ family _? I thought you promised to look out for them!»_

 _«I'm sorry, boss. I…I couldn't. I couldn't do anything. Why? Why? I'm not strong enough to be a part of this famiglia, am I?»_

He'd go crazy with loss if he didn't remain detached. He'd go crazy with despair if he stopped moving. So he remained detached and kept moving, organising and cleaning and tidying and fixing and ordering and _order_ ; he just wanted _order_ again (and wasn't that ironic), until Nono himself, injured and all, had to step in and stop him before he collapsed from fatigue.

 _You're needed here_ , he'd been told, _so don't run away._ Even when he's old and hurt, Timoteo could still read Iemitsu like an open book.

So imagine his shock when Iemitsu upped and left the next week, and no one, not even his own subordinates, could tell Nono where he'd gone. All he'd left was a note that said, _I'll be back as soon as possible._

Which resulted in the current situation.

«So. Are you ready to tell me what happened?» Timoteo said gently; bless his soul. Always willing to give the benefit of the doubt, even when it led to being betrayed by a child he called his own.

Iemitsu cast his eyes about, glancing at everything from the locks on the new window, to the new floors and the new shelves, before settling on the picture of Nono's family sitting on the desk.

«My son. Tsu...Tsunayoshi. Do you remember him?»

Timoteo blinked at the sudden question, and thought back to the times he spent in Japan with the Sawada family. He remembered a small child with bright eyes and a beautiful voice, especially when he was tickled in just the right spot.

«Of course I remember Tsunayoshi-kun. Why?»

He'd regretted the question the moment before it left his mouth, and he could see Iemitsu's soul bend to a breaking point.

«He…he…he's been _taken_. Oh _god_ , Timoteo! My son was _kidnapped_ a whole _month_ ago, on the same day this crap all happened, a-and _I can't_ _find him!_ »

Everything came up and out as the haunted man stood so quickly that his chair tipped back with a crash, and Timoteo listened to everything with a growing sense of guilt and horror.

«I apologise for going back to Namimori earlier than I should have, but I couldn't let the trail go cold. Not when all our operatives were here, dealing with the…the 'Cradle Affair'.»

The incident with Xanxus was bad enough to be named, and Iemitsu wished they hadn't so he wouldn't have had to spend four precious days and nights trying his best to bury it.

«I had to go back to look for him. Practically made Kokuyo Land shut down by exposing their lack of security, then took a look through their so-called 'security tapes', _then_ found out it'd been long enough for the cameras to record over the previous recordings. I tried following the trail again, but it ends in the parking lot. I tried asking all my yakuza contacts about whether they'd seen or heard anything, _anything_ at all, but it's like Tsuna and his kidnapper just disappeared into thin air!»

The blond was breathing hard now, and Timoteo couldn't even begin to imagine what the man was going through.

«But the worst thing is…is the _silence,_ » he whispered in admission. With morbid fascination, Iemitsu stared down at his trembling hands gripping the edge of desk. «I…I keep expecting…dreading… _hoping_ that the _figlio di puttana_ will send me a ransom note, or a list of demands, something _, anything_ to at least show me what happened to my son. God forbid, I'd even settle for a body. But…» He finally looked up again, and Timoteo had to restrain himself from tearing away from the deep, deep void that had somehow crept into his external advisor's black eyes.

Nono's sense of dread and guilt worsened until it made his stomach cramp, because he knew that, as the head of the Vongola, he could not give Iemitsu what he so desperately wanted – no, _needed_.

«I'm sorry, Iemitsu.»

To his surprise, his CEDEF leader just grinned, yet looked like he wanted to cry at the same time.

«You're apologising. You're not foolish enough to believe this is your fault, do you? So…what _are_ you sorry for?»

Nono took a fortifying breath. _Better now than never._

«From the looks of it, whoever has Tsunayoshi-kun doesn't know who he really is. Otherwise, you'd have heard from him one way or another already. Because he _is_ a potential heir of the Vongola, no matter how many sons I have.» He saw Iemitsu nod, all blank and detached again. «A bigger problem is that we don't have any idea where the boy is to narrow our search. If he's not in Japan, he could be _anywhere_ in the world.»

«So…we should hack airport security footage. _Shit_ , why didn't I think of that sooner–»

«You can't. _We_ can't.»

The silence was enough to make the tension in the air spike.

«…Excuse me, sir?»

«People are asking questions, Iemitsu! People within our famiglia already find it strange that you only stayed for barely a week, let alone our allies and enemies. If you let it out that your son is missing on top of the previous affair, then everyone will be thrown into an even greater chaos than before, not to mention that if whoever took Tsunayoshi-kun found out who he really is–»

«Then tell them I'm on a different emergency mission, o-or that I'm looking for an important asset! All we need is a front–»

«I am _not_ inclined to lie to our own famiglia, not so soon after this…affair.» Timoteo clasped his hands together, almost as if he were begging Iemitsu to understand. «I'm sorry, I truly am, but the timing is bad all around. Everyone is still working on repairing the damages done, whether they are physical, emotional, social, or political. I can't send them off on missions all over the world with only the vague details of looking for a child, nor can I trust everyone to be discreet about this matter if we did tell them everything. And apart from your subordinates and my guardians, I doubt anyone else even _knows_ you have a son, as you wanted to keep him in Japan and out of the reach of the Mafia. Are you prepared to reveal the fact that Tsuna-kun is a potential candidate for the Vongola seat? Are you prepared to spend every day trying to prevent assassination attempts and infighting among your own flesh and blood?»

 _«Then just let ME go, by myself!»_

The blond practically yelled, the all-too familiar feeling of desperation returning with a vengeance.

«" _Famiglia over family", Iemitsu!_ You _know_ that.»

Iemitsu could hear the desk crack under the weight of his burning hands, but he was barely holding himself together as it is.

«Don't say that. You have no _f-cking_ right to say that to me, not when I prioritised picking up the phone when I should've been watching my son. _And NOT when I have to come back to a slaughter of my CEDEF members, all because a certain boss endangered the entire famiglia because he couldn't teach a child he called his own son!_ »

Iemitsu spat out the last few words and stormed out, slamming the door behind.

The boss of the Vongola sighed shakily, feeling many more years weighing his shoulders as he bowed his head into his hands, praying for forgiveness.

He stayed like that until a ring coming from his private phone interrupted his self-inflicted penance, and he answered with a tired «Pronto.»

« _Ciaossu._ »

The voice of a child crackled through, and his heart sank even further than he thought possible.

«Salve, Reborn.»

« _Salve to you too_ » was the sarcastic reply. But the voice took on a more serious edge, as if Reborn could pick up the leftover tension through the phone. « _I heard what happened with Xanxus. Do you need me to return to Italia?_ »

Nono shook his head in defeat.

 _Trust the greatest hitman to find out things others so desperately want to hide. But I guess I would've told him myself if he didn't._

«Thank you for your concern, but we need you more in England than over here. How are things on your side?»

« _Fine_.» More static, as if the hitman didn't care to elaborate, which he probably didn't. « _I'll be done by the end of this month, unless the negotiation falls through. In that case, I'll be done by next week._ »

Nono could picture the baby complete with a black fedora and even blacker smile. He suppressed a shudder.

«Thanks Reborn, but please try your best not to kill anyone who isn't the target.»

« _Hm. No promises._ »

But he knew Reborn well enough to know he was thinking of all the various ways to complete his mission while minimizing the aftereffects. He still couldn't tell if Reborn did things his way because the hitman respected his wishes, or whether it was because of the thrill of a challenge. After all, wanton destruction was always easier than covert assassinations.

« _Anything else I should know about, Nono?_ » His tone was suggestive, as if he was trying to unearth everything that was bothering the Vongola boss so he could shoot it to death.

It seemed like Reborn's sixth sense worked over the phone as well, and he was sorely tempted to tell him about the lost child he'd come to see as his own grandson, but he didn't. He couldn't. He'd already asked for too many favours from the freelance hitman, and his current priority was to pull his famiglia back together.

However, he knew Reborn was an excellent lie detector, so he tried to distract him from finding out about Tsunayoshi.

«Actually, when you've finished with the negotiations in England, I was thinking about giving you a different contract.»

« _Oh? Who's the target?_ »

«…He's not a target, per se. Because of this recent incident, a rift has appeared between the Vongola and Chiavarone famiglia.» He recalled their solemn meeting held inside the private hospital, and winced. Even on his deathbed, a father's love could never rest. «Chiavarone Nono's son and heir, Dino Chiavarone, was caught up in a fight with Squalo. Needless to say, he didn't fare so well, and hearing about his son's admission to the same hospital nearly sent the Don into another heart attack.»

« _…Dino? The kid with the worst grades in the school for mafia children?_ »

 _Trust Reborn to keep tabs on their allies' children as well_.

«Yes. I heard later on that he willingly jumped in to help the struggling CEDEF members, but he was still heavily injured. He did surprisingly well to hold Squalo off for so long, but honestly speaking, he could very well have died. And if that happened, I'm afraid we would lose quite a formidable ally. We can't let that happen, especially not now. We have enough enemies as it is.»

« _Hm._ » Reborn agreed, but he still sounded a little wary. « _What do you propose then?_ »

«I was hoping you could…well… _teach_ the child. Just until he finds the strength to lead his famiglia,» Timoteo hurriedly added. «If you can do that, then I think it will let Chiavarone Nono rest in peace, and restore their trust in us.»

Silence reigned for a few tormenting heartbeats, before Reborn huffed out an amused breath.

« _You always present the most interesting of challenges, Vongola Nono._ »

With that, he hung up, and Timoteo let out a breath of his own.

 _Now, to get back to all this paperwork._ He looked at the dreaded paper towers and groaned. _Maybe_ after _I tell the Chiavarone about their newfound 'fortune'._

* * *

AN: A whole chapter about distractions, because even though some characters appear invincible, they're still human, and can only be in one place at one time.

It took me a while to figure out what Lavina's last name is. Since she's half Japanese, half Italian, and she's not married, her son Hayato must have gotten the "Gokudera" surname from somewhere. Since his father is full Italian, there's no way it came from him.

For those who thought it would be Tsuna's storm guardian, then...sorry? He'll come eventually, I promise.


	8. The Goose

AN: Thanks for all the views, reviews, follows, and favourites! You guys are awesome, although some of you left kinda scary comments. A-hahaha...should I be worried? But I suppose this means the villains are doing a good job.

To one reviewer, this story starts in Tsuna's childhood and ends in his teenage years. So you'll follow him as he grows from a child to an adolescent, and this is part of the reason why this will be quite a long story. To those hoping that Tsuna will be rescued and/or escapes on his own, if it happens this early, then the story will be cut really, really short. Heh.

On a different note, I've always thought that it's difficult being in Nono's position, kind of like being a ruler of a country. You have to know what's best for everyone, even if it means a few individuals will suffer. Even if they're people close to you.

Anyway. This chapter took longer to upload because of its length. I'd originally wanted to split it into one interlude and one chapter, but at the rate I'm going I'd probably end up with more interludes than chapters. So hooray for long chapters! And they might get even longer in the future.

 **WARNING:** More violence, and mild swearing in English. Hardcore swearing in Italian (I offer sincere apologies to anyone who can understand Italian).

Disclaimer: I don't own _Reborn!_ , or any of the songs used below.

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _Old Mother Goose, w_ _hen s_ _he wanted to wander,  
_ _Would ride through the air on a very fine gander.  
_ _Jack's mother came in, and caught the goose soon,  
_ _And mounting its back, flew up to the moon._ _  
_

* * *

 _Chapter 5: The Goose_

It'd been a full week of having Leo as her student, and she felt like she was getting nowhere. Sure, he listened to her when she started him on breathing exercises, but otherwise, every time he sang, it was like the first time she heard him – barely audible, hoarse, and distracted. It probably didn't help that Massimo's suffocating presence was keenly felt by both teacher and student, even though all he did was wait in the living room.

And Leo was so jumpy that he almost fell down the stairs once when she opened the door before he had a chance to knock.

 _Maybe I'm approaching this the wrong way,_ she thought. She'd taught a handful of different students before, but none of them were ever in such a delicate situation as Leo was. Most children would readily trust an adult in a matter of seconds, but Leo's eyes and posture were always guarded. Probably always ready to be beaten, or betrayed. Or both.

She somehow had to make Leo understand that she would never attack him; that he never has to feel defensive around her. She had to earn his trust.

 _But how?_

The sound of soft knocking drew her out of her thoughts, and she went to open the door for her student. But instead of Leo and Massimo, she was surprised to see a new face – a well-built man no taller than her, with thick eyebrows and brown hair that was plastered with sweat.

«Salve, Signorina Gokudera. My name is Piedro, and I'm here as Mas–Massimo can't make it today. I'll be the one to pick him up, too.» He fumbled a smile, and she raised an eyebrow in response. «Uhhh…He got called into an emergency at work, and so I'm here instead. Right, Leo?»

He nudged Leo with more force than necessary, and the boy stumbled with surprise. She quickly caught him, and felt his reflexive flinch at the unexpected contact.

Even though she wanted to, she tried not to be upset or get angry with this 'Piedro'. Children were very sensitive to emotions, more so for those being abused.

Instead, she smiled, and gently righted the boy before brushing the dirt off his hat.

«Salve, Piedro. Thank you for bringing Leo over today.» She smiled brightly at the greasy man, and he blushed and stammered something about it being 'no problem'.

 _Oh-ho. He's definitely not as wary as Massimo is_. He was looking everywhere but at her, and an idea suddenly struck her.

«Excuse me? Signore Piedro?» She added a little honey to her voice, and tilted her head in the angle that best showed off her emerald green eyes.

His eyes widened, and the man started to fidget like a teenage boy.

 _Gotcha_.

«Signore Piedro?»

«Y-y-y-yes ma'am?»

«It's _awfully_ hot today, and I was just worrying about the fact that the milk in my fridge has gone bad.»

She put on her best puppy-eyed look, and Piedro fell harder than the Berlin Wall. _Hook, line, and sinker._

«Ah…uh…wh-what?»

«Milk, Signore Piedro. _Milk._ » She sighed prettily, twirled a strand of silver hair around her finger and imagined it was the blubbering man in front of her. «I need someone to get me more milk, but I can't brave this summer heat. I have a _very_ delicate constitution.» She looked at him again, pleading like a damsel in distress. «Would you be so kind - so _brave -_ as to help me buy more milk? If you do, I'll gladly pay you back, with a little extra for your services.»

She smiled hopefully, and the man was nodding before she'd even finished.

«Milk! Sure! Right away!»

«Oh, but I don't want just any old milk from the market. You see, I'm lactose intolerant. Unfortunately, that means I can't have normal cow's milk.» She pouted for extra sympathy points. «I can only drink soymilk. Would it be possible for you to run to the market for me and get me a carton? I'd be _forever_ grateful.»

Piedro was nodding his head off in eager assent, but suddenly hesitated as if he just thought of something.

 _Crap. Did I overdo it?_

«Uh…w-w-well, the market's not too far, right? Massimo told me that I'm supposed to sit outside the classroom to…ah…look out for you two's safety.»

He smiled, pleased with himself, while Lavina sighed inwardly with relief.

«Don't worry; it's really close by. You see the street down there?»

She pointed to the left, and saw that Piedro found it hard to tear his eyes away from her delicate fingers. But she continued as if she didn't notice.

«So on that street, you make a right, then a left, and go straight until you see the tall olive tree, then turn left at the corner where there's a hawker selling handbags. Keep to the right, then when the path forks, make a right up the small hill and over. You'll see the sign for the market, and it will be on your left.» She clapped his shoulder once and smiled again, then looked at her watch.

«Oh my! Look at the time! I can't waste Signore Massimo's hard-earned money by hanging around here. But don't worry; I'll make up for any lost time by adding it back to the end of today's lesson. Is that okay?»

Piedro nodded dumbly, and was about to open his mouth when Lavina whirled around and ushered Leo through the door.

«Great! I'll see you at 10:30! Don't be late!»

She trailed off, and closed the door behind her with a satisfying _click_. She pressed an ear against the door, and waited until she heard uncertain footsteps clunk down the stairs and away into the street.

Then she pumped a fist in victory, and looked over to see if Leo would appreciate what she'd just done.

She got a strange stare instead, and she sweatdropped.

 _Right. He probably didn't understand most of what just happened anyway._

"A-ha. Don't worry about that Leo; I was just trying to make him leave."

She smiled, and tried to approach him, but he took a step back.

"Oh Leo. Please don't be scared; I only made him go away because it seems like you're always worried about your…ah…guardians." His eyes shot up in surprise, and she smiled tenderly. "I honestly just want to help you. And that's hard to do when someone you're scared of is watching us all the time."

She crouched down and made herself look as relaxed as possible, remembering all the times she'd done the same for Hayato and her other students.

Leo's hair fell over his eyes, and they stood in silence for a moment before he looked up again with a less guarded expression on his face.

She took it as a good sign, and offered a hand, which he accepted after a slight hesitation.

Lavina was happier beyond words, and grinned as they went to the music room together.

 _Finally! Maybe I can actually make some headway today._

She sat on the piano seat, and Leo stood next to her like he'd been instructed to previously.

And then it came to her in a rush, in the way Leo looked at her like she was the same as the other adults he's met; in the way he always looked like he was waiting for a bomb to drop, in the way he didn't speak, even though he sometimes looked like he wanted to.

He was _lost_ , and he didn't know how to find who he was again, not when everyone around him was telling him what to do and say and sing.

She desperately wanted to tell him that it's okay, and that she's not the same as the others, but how could she make him _understand_ that?

She cast her mind about, trying to think of something to say…and she frowned. Who says she has to _say_ something? Maybe…just maybe _,_ her idea will work.

"I'm sorry, Leo-kun."

He looked at her questioningly.

"It probably hasn't been very fair of me; to make you sing so much when you haven't even heard _me_ sing before. In fact, I don't even know if you _want_ to sing. I was probably like everyone else, making you do something you don't feel like doing." Leo, the dear, was shaking his head alarmingly at that, and she smiled sadly. "It's okay to tell me when you don't want something, Leo-kun, or when something doesn't make you happy. I want to be a good teacher, and that can't happen if I keep pushing you the wrong way. So I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that way."

He stared at her with a mixture of confusion and amazement and – _hope?_ _He's still there,_ Lavina thought, and renewed her determination.

"I'm always telling you to sing, but now _I_ want to sing for _you_." She giggled at his stunned look. "If I sound weird, feel free to let me know. Now! What to sing, what to sing…oh! I know! The festival was a while ago, and no one celebrates it here, but I've always loved this song as a child. How did it go again…?"

She played a few chords on the piano, then settled on which note to start with before clearing her throat.

 _Sasa no ha sara sara,  
_ (Bamboo leaves are rustling, rustling,)  
 _Nokiba ni yureru,  
_ (Swaying close to the roof's edge,)  
 _Ohoshi-sama kira kira,  
_ (Oh, how the stars are twinkling, twinkling,)  
 _Kin gin sunago.  
_ (Gold and silver grains of sand.)

 _Go shiki no tanzaku  
_ (Five paper wishes)  
 _Watashi ga kaita  
_ (I have written)  
 _Ohoshi-sama kira kira,  
_ (The stars are twinkling, twinkling,)  
 _Sora kara miteru.  
_ (And watching from the sky.)(1)

Lavina's voice was gentle like her touch on the piano, yet underneath the softness and innocence of the song was the strength of a willow tree. She sang as a mother would sing to her child, and poured all her wishes and promises in her song for Leo. _I'm here. You're safe here, and it's okay to be who you are._

She tinkled the last few notes on the piano, then opened her eyes and looked over, nervous about how the boy would react.

To her horror, there were tears pooling under Leo's eyes, and she forgot herself as she scooped his small frame into her lap, rubbing circles on his back and making soothing noises. That only made him cry harder, and she saw him finally let go of his reservations and bury himself in her embrace, sobbing with a desperation she'd never seen in a child before.

 _He needs this,_ she realised, as she held him tighter and rocked him gently, cooing at the same time. She tucked his fluffy head under her chin, his hat fallen and forgotten on the floor. And her heart ached even harder for him, but she was glad, too.

She'd found a piece of him, bright and broken like a fractured star, and she swore to herself to never let go.

They sat like this for a long time, and Lavina fought back her own tears as he cried himself to exhaustion. It was only after she lay a sleeping Leo on the sofa when she allowed herself to grieve too; for the child that was and wasn't hers.

* * *

Tsuna thought he had no tears left, but Signorina Gokudera proved him wrong. About halfway through the first verse, he realised that she was singing the famous Tanabata song that his okaa-san taught him a long time ago. He'd thought it was a simple, happy song back then, but his new sensei sung it so gently; so sweetly that he could see the same longing in her that he had in the deepest corner of his heart.

She used her voice to make the story of Tanabata come alive, and he _remembered_.

Before he knew what was happening, he'd clamped a hand over the 5-yen coin hidden underneath his shirt, and was desperately trying not to cry and disturb his sensei. But as he thought about what she'd done for him; the small ways she tried to shield him from Oni-san's terrifying glare, and her kindness that was so much like okaa-san's, he just couldn't help the overwhelming _relief_ that came crashing down.

She was his answer to his 5-yen prayer, and she'd said it was okay to be himself. Just Tsuna, not a _deficiente_ , not an _idiota_ or _pezzo di merda_ or even _Leo_. And Tsuna had never been strong before.

She held him in her arms, and for the first time in a long time, Tsuna felt safe.

He kind of woke up in a haze afterwards to an urgent nudging from Signorina, and she just managed to clean his face and put his hat back on when the short man came knocking. He'd been dragged all the way back to his prison-home, where Oni-san was waiting and looking very angry.

They were both yelled at, although Oni-san seemed to be angrier at Piedro-san than him. Then Oni-san took him inside the classroom to ask him a few questions, but Tsuna wasn't really listening, not even when Oni-san threatened him several times.

He was sent straight to his basement room without afternoon lessons and food, but that suited Tsuna just fine. He needed time by himself so he could send a thank-you prayer to kami through his coin.

There was nothing else to do after that, so he spent the rest of his free time practicing the breathing exercises Signorina showed him. He wasn't sure how learning how to breathe would help him, but now that he knew for sure that he could trust her, he did them anyway. They were surprisingly calming, and made it easier to forget his rumbling tummy so he could drift off into a deep sleep.

* * *

The next day, they were back with the usual routine with Maso bringing the child to Signorina Gokudera's place, although there was a subtle difference in the way Leo walked. He moved more lightly and for a second almost looked _happy_ , although Maso wrote it off as gratefulness at having a bigger breakfast than usual. It was bad enough that the scheming lady picked up on Leo's lack of sustenance and signs of abuse, and he couldn't afford to have random civilians noticing either.

' _Scheming lady' is the perfect name for her,_ thought Maso as he pulled Leo into a less crowded alleyway. He'd been absolutely furious when he heard Piedro's reason for being late. He knew the man was stupid, but he thought he'd be able to control it by giving very clear and firm instructions.

Even so, he couldn't deny the fact that the lady was exotically beautiful with her pale features, shimmering silver hair, and striking green eyes, and he'd known hardened men who have fallen for less.

But if his situation got close to being exposed, he needed a plan to get the upper hand again, although it shouldn't be too difficult seeing as the woman had a bleeding heart for children.

 _Note to self: make sure that if I ever send Piedro again, that I should ask Signore Marchesi to talk to him first. Note number two,_ he thought as they arrived on the steps of the quaint Italian home, _holding hostages always works on those with bleeding hearts._

He told Leo to knock, which he did, and the music teacher opened the door with an unusually excited smile.

«Good morning, Leo-kun and Signore Massimo! How are you today?»

 _Yeah,_ way _more chirpier than usual._

«G-g-good morning, Signorina Gokudera.» And then the brat fricking _smiled back_ ; a tiny, shy smile that was gone by the time he blinked, but he knew what he saw. And he didn't like it at all.

She looked at him and seemed to sense his displeasure, because she quickly waved both of them inside with a «Please come in.» But before she could retreat to the music room with the kid, he caught her by the elbow and gave her a meaningful look.

«Signorina. We need to talk _._ »

To her credit, she didn't bat an eye as she nudged Leo into the music room and told him she'd be with him shortly, then went back to Maso with a curious look as if she had no idea what he wanted.

 _Time to gain the upper hand._

«I take it that you've met my friend Piedro.»

«Of course. He _did_ introduce himself,» she replied teasingly.

«Well, he told me you sent him off on an unusual errand. One that took him _much_ longer than he expected.»

«Really? I did give him directions; the market really isn't that far. Maybe he's just bad with remembering instructions.»

He caught her sidelong glance. _Oh no you don't._

«While I'll admit he isn't the sharpest tool in the toolbox, I'm just curious as to what you did while he was…'busy'.»

«Signore Massimo! I assure you I know my duties as Leo-kun's teacher, and will _never_ overstep my boundaries.»

«Ah yes, of course _,_ your _duties_ as a 'teacher'.» He pretended to wave it aside. «But I'm not talking about overstepping your _own_ boundaries; I'm talking about you possibly overstepping Leo's. You see, I can't help but think that your… _abundant curiosity_ will one day lead to questions. Questions that will be quite dangerous to ask the child.»

He gave her a calculating look, and she took the slightest of steps back.

«Dangerous to whom?» she asked warily.

«To both of you! While I must spare you the details, I can assure you that if anything about our arrangement or whatever you may or may not find out is leaked, I'll be the first to know. And do you know what will happen after that?»

She squared her shoulders and gave a derisive huff.

«I'm not afraid of _death_ , Signore.»

«Yes, yes. Death does not scare a dying woman. I _am_ aware of your failing health, and you do not want to ask me how I know.» He cut her off before she could retaliate. «But you _do_ have something to lose, do you not?» He nodded towards the music room, and smiled suggestively. «Let me tell you now, if you're planning to help him, the fastest way to get him killed is to let your curiosity get the better of you.»

She paled imperceptibly, and Maso knew he'd won this round.

«And yet, you still need me. For some reason or another,» she said slowly.

«If you don't want to be his teacher anymore, by all means, go ahead and quit. But that will mean you'll never see Leo again.»

He crossed his arms and shrugged as if he didn't care either way, even though he knew neither of them could jump ship, not when they're in so deep.

«What if…what if I made him one of the best singers in the whole of Italia?»

 _Now_ THAT _is an interesting possibility. Unlikely, but interesting._

«Lady, if you do that, I will personally guarantee that he will survive anything we have to throw at him.»

It was the most honest thing he's said this week, and she seemed to sense his sincerity too as she exhaled and squared her shoulders, determined again. _For more helpful reasons_ , Maso thought with approval.

He saw her open her mouth, no doubt to have the last word (because women were wired like that), when he saw movement from the corner of his eye. Being a trained Mafioso, he honed in on it, only to find it was his charge peeking from behind the music room door with a scared expression.

He hadn't seen _that_ face for a while now, not even when he'd yelled him the other day.

He could only draw one conclusion: the boy was scared for _her_.

At that point, said woman also noticed they had an eavesdropping audience, and quickly moved towards him with a smile.

«Leo-kun! Did you get bored of waiting? Don't worry; we're just about finished.» She moved towards the boy, but Maso caught her by the arm before she could leave and shot her a meaningful look, keeping one eye on Leo's reaction.

«Remember what we talked about,» he murmured before releasing her, but not before catching the widening eyes and slight tremble from the prisoner behind the door.

«Alright. And now, if you will excuse me.»

She went to start the lesson as if nothing happened, although Maso knew how good her poker face was.

As the door to the music room closed, he sighed, and could only wait and think about how to beat the bleeding heart out of Leo, at least enough to be sure he wouldn't do anything stupid.

* * *

Tsuna's music lessons became like a bubble of safety for him – a place where he can breathe easier. Life hadn't become easy; not by a long shot, but this was the break he'd been wishing for. He had an extra slice of bread for breakfast, an extra glass of milk sweetened with honey for lunch, and he wasn't punished as often, even though he still made the same mistakes sometimes.

Little things, but they made life more bearable.

He had something to look forward to, and Signorina was like the wrench that would help fix things. She was a nice teacher; one who gave gentle pushes up a mountain instead of throwing him off a cliff and expecting him to fly.

That didn't mean she let him take things slowly, though.

"Do it again, from the top."

"What? You can't read this? Hm…your cousin seems to be slacking in his efforts to teach you Italian. Here; I'll read out each line and what it means, and you repeat them after me."

" _Breathe_ , Leo-kun! You're not getting enough air!"

"Do you do the breathing exercises every night like I told you to? Yes? I think it's time to double the amount. Oh don't give me that look; I know you can do it."

"…You know, it'd be a good idea if you did some stamina training. What is it? Well, I was thinking it would do you a lot of good to go running every afternoon, after your lessons. Don't worry; I'll talk to your cousin about it. I'm sure he'll agree. We might have to increase your lesson time as well so you can learn some music theory, sight-singing, intonation…you're giving me that look again."

She'd gotten quite good at reading his thoughts even when he didn't say anything (which was most of the time), and could see something in him that even he couldn't see. It was…refreshing, especially when she got carried away and start talking in what he secretly called "music-alien-speak".

She also bought him more time away from his previous hell, as his routine changed to a 2-hour music lesson in the mornings, followed by running laps around the mansion's inner courtyard, then a quick shower and late lunch, before Italian lessons with either Oni-san or the teenagers began. Dinner wasn't dependent on how much he learned that day anymore, and when he was alone in his room he would do his breathing exercises before going to bed.

In many ways, the new routine was more tiring than the previous one, but it was a good kind of tired. The better days were when Oni-san was free in the late afternoon, so he didn't have to suffer through the older boys' treatment (which was the only thing that hadn't changed). But even that was a little better as he picked up a few more Italian words and phrases, and he was slowly learning how to avoid making them mad, which usually consisted of hiding either physically, or if that wasn't possible, somewhere inside himself.

One afternoon, he was waiting inside his classroom when the three teens stumbled in with scrapes and minor burns, and singed hairstyles that made Tsuna's eyes widen in surprise.

Paulo, the one who looked the least frazzled, pinned him with a glare.

«Don't. You. _Dare_. Laugh.»

Tsuna shook his head quickly, knowing even the slightest sound would be taken as a laugh. But he was still curious, so concentrated hard to try to understand their rapid conversation and hand gestures to find out what happened.

« _Che cazzo!_ What the hell was that…that… _thing?_ »

«…I'm pretty sure that was a _vacca_ , Enzo.»

Tsuna blinked, wondering if he heard right. A _cow_ attacked them?

«A crazy one! _God_ , where the hell did it come from?!»

«I think it's a kid that just entered the mafia _prescolastico_ next to us. Most likely from the Bovino famiglia.»

«Gee, I wonder what gave that away.»

«I don't care where he's from; I wanna know why he has a freaking _pistola_ and _granate_ in his freaking _hair!_ And why the _cazzo_ he would use them on me! It was like…like he was waiting for me outside the school gates!»

«Boss, he _did_ introduce himself. "I'm Lambo! My favourite foods are candy and grapes, and I'm here to kill Paulo!"»

«Thanks, Rossi. If you ever try copying a child's voice again, I'll rip your tongue out. And what the hell's with that introduction?»

«Dunno. Probably got a few screws loose.»

«And some guts. I'll give him that much,» Paulo grunted, rubbing a sore spot on his shoulder. «But next time we see him, I think we should teach him a lesson about respect.» He grinned, the same expression he had before he'd beat Tsuna to a pulp. «The good ol' mafia _iniziazione_.»

«Sounds good to me, boss.»

They huddled together and started talking in whispers, having completely forgotten Tsuna who had a small headache from concentrating so hard. But it was better than having his own lesson, so he kept quiet, and tried to disappear into the background.

* * *

It wasn't until about a week later when he had a peek of the three boys' new routine. He and Oni-san happened to be walking back after his music lesson, and Oni-san had stopped at a convenience store and told him to «Wait outside where I can see you». This wasn't so unusual, so Tsuna had waited, until the sound of a yelling child came from somewhere to his left.

It was abruptly cut off, but Tsuna heard enough to pinpoint where it came from, and he dared to peek around the corner.

When his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit alley, he could see the three bulky teenagers surrounding…a baby cow?

He squinted, and realised it was actually a child about three years old dressed in a cow-print onesie and a pair of horns sticking out from his black afro.

He was wondering whether the horns were part of a hat or actually part of the kid's head when the kid stuck a hand in his hair and pulled out a pink-coloured, pineapple-shaped ball.

« _Oh no you don't!_ »

All three teens lunged at the cow at the same time, although it was Paulo who managed to grab him by the scruff of his clothes.

The pink pineapple ball fell to the ground, and everyone froze in comical horror for a few seconds before Rossi frowned and said «Ah. The pin's still in.»

The other two share a moment of relief before turning their attention back to the struggling boy, who was yelling at them to «Let Lambo go! I'm gonna kill you!»

Tsuna saw Paulo roll his eyes, then all three proceeded to…proceeded to…

Tsuna's eyes widened in horror, desperately wanting to tear his eyes away and yet was unable to unsee the violence being inflicted on a child half his age. They'd covered the boy's mouth with a hand so he couldn't scream, but the muffled yells and sounds of ugly bruises being formed rang much too close to Tsuna's heart.

 _I…I need to_ do _something!_ But what could he do? It wasn't like he could take on the three bullies by himself, but maybe Oni-san could help.

He turned around quickly, and smacked his nose into said person's leg.

«I told you to wait outside, _where I can see you._ »

«B-b-bu-but Oni-san–»

«We need to go. _Now_.»

He cast a desperate look backwards, and found a tiny spark of determination for the strange boy he didn't even know.

«We…we need to help him! They're gonna _kill_ him!»

He was about to take a step forward when a giant hand yanked him back.

«You didn't see _anything._ And I suggest you stay silent unless you're allowed to speak. Trust me – you'll live longer that way.»

Oni-san dragged him away from the scene, but Tsuna's eyes were glued on Lambo's screaming ones, and they followed him into his nightmares.

* * *

"No Leo-kun; the fifth note was a little flat. Try again, from the very beginning."

It wasn't obvious, but Tsuna could tell Signorina Gokudera was nearing the end of her great patience – a very rare occurrence, even though he knew he wasn't the easiest student to teach.

He cringed, dipping his head in apology.

"Oh Leo-kun, I'm not mad." She misunderstood his bow, so he shook his head in response and looked up with a wan smile. That was something else she'd brought back to him – the ability to smile, no matter how small it may be.

"I…I know. But I'm sorry anyway."

She raised an eyebrow at his rarely-heard speaking voice, but then furrowed it in concern.

"Something's going on, isn't it. It's been distracting you ever since a few days ago." He looked at her with surprise, and she sighed again. "Music is about expressing your feelings in a way that can be heard and move others into feeling a certain way, but the same can be said the other way round. What you're feeling will also affect your music – in this case, the way you sing. So." She patted the empty space on the piano bench next to her; an invitation for Tsuna to sit. "Tell me. What happened? And feel free to leave out any parts you'd rather not share."

Tsuna looked nervously at the proffered seat, then to the door where he knew Oni-san was waiting. It was a fixed rule that had been drilled into him ever since he arrived in Italy – to never tell anyone about his situation, not even if they asked about it.

"Don't worry; I can keep a secret." She smiled softly, persuasively, green eyes glowing with a promise.

Tsuna shook his head, indicating that he didn't doubt her trustworthiness. But he went to sit next to her, pulled by the temptation and longing to let _someone_ know.

He played with the hem of his shirt, thinking furiously about what to say when a sudden thought – or maybe it was more like instinct? – surfaced in his heart.

 _Don't tell her_ , it said. _He'll kill both of you if he finds out, and he_ will _._

 _B-but…I could leave out…leave the details, and tell her about okaa- and otou-san–_

 _She's already helping you. It's_ your _turn to help_ her.

He waited a few more seconds to see if the voice would clarify, but it left as suddenly as it came.

"Helloooo? Leo-kun?" Signorina waved a hand in front of him teasingly, even though she sounded worried at his silence.

 _Wait…Oni-san said I couldn't talk about myself, but he didn't say I couldn't talk about outsiders._ It was a little loophole, and maybe he was stretching the rules a bit, but he would be asking for advice instead of help.

"Um…well…what do you do if you see someone in trouble? Very _bad_ trouble, and you want to help, but you're not allowed to?" He whispered, casting a wary eye to the room's closed door. But he didn't miss the strange look on Signorina's face.

"Oh. Ah...If I may ask, whom are we talking about? Is it someone I know?"

He shook his head, doubting that the teacher would've come across a boy dressed like a cow.

"Okay. What kind of trouble are they in?"

He shrugged helplessly, unwilling to reveal too much. _She doesn't need to be caught up in this fight._

She hummed in thought, sweeping her loose hair to one side as she did. Tsuna noticed she often played with her hair when she was concentrating, so he waited patiently. She was one of the smartest adults he knew, and whatever she said next will be important enough to memorise.

"Leo-kun, do you remember that day I first taught you about vocal range? The day when your cousin wanted to have a very serious talk with me and you had to wait in the music room?"

He nodded, although confused as to where this was going.

"Well, we were just about done when you peeked out of the room, even though Massimo told you not to. Why did you do that?"

He blinked. He thought the answer was obvious to a clever person like Signorina, but he answered anyway.

"Be…because I thought…I thought he was bullying you." He caught himself before adding a "too _"_ at the end of that reply.

But Signorina beamed and ruffled his hair, for some reason happy with his answer.

"Exactly! Even though you were going against what you were told, you still decided to help me. Why?"

 _Why does she keep asking me questions as if I'm the one who has all the answers?_

He shrugged, wishing he were half as smart. She merely giggled at his confusion and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.

"My silly _uccellino_. You did it because it was the right thing to do. You did it because you have a kind heart, and those with kind hearts don't let others stop them from being kind, even if it means breaking a few 'rules'." She patted his shoulder affectionately, then clapped her hands. "Alright! Are we ready now? All distractions gone?"

He nodded slowly, and understanding cleared up some of the fog that had settled in his head. Maybe he couldn't make the right choice last time, but if he gets a second chance…he set his mouth in determination, and hopped off the bench to take his usual place next to the music stand.

 _I'll try. Even if I can't do much anyway._

* * *

His second chance came about a month later, when Oni-san stopped by the same convenience store again. He was just thinking about how the moment seemed very familiar to him when he heard a child's voice from around the corner, solidifying the sense of déjà vu.

«Yo, Paulo! It's me, Lambo!»

He peeked around, and sure enough, the three teens were there too, taking their usual cigarette break. The kid Lambo was also in his cow attire again, although he had a few plasters on his face.

The three groaned collectively.

«Haven't you given up yet, stupid cow?»

«Lambo can't stop until he's killed the strongest Mafioso in school! _So die, Paulo_!»

He promptly threw one of those pink-looking balls, but Enzo smacked it away with practiced ease. It blew up a few feet away with a sharp _bang_ , startling Tsuna enough to fall backwards onto his butt.

 _HIEEEEEE! Was that a-a-a…b-b-b-bomb?!_

«Look. You're an annoying _pezzo di merda_. What do we have to do to get you off our backs?»

Tsuna braved another look, and this time, Rossi held a struggling Lambo by his outfit's tail and was shaking him roughly, causing all sorts of candy, pencils, grapes…bombs…and _weapons?_...to fall out of his hair.

« _Ah_! Stop it stupid grass-head!»

Enzo and Paulo snickered at the nickname, but it only made Rossi shake him harder until even a horn fell off. He then threw the cow against the opposite wall with a loud _smack_.

« _Gyupaa!_ That hurt!»

«It was supposed to, dumbass. Now, we'll ask again: what do we have to do to get you to stop annoying boss Paulo here?»

«I, the great Lambo, three years old and a hitman from the Bovino famiglia, fell down! Favourite foods are candy and grapes, and I, the great Lambo, who is trying to kill Paulo, just fell down!»

The teens smacked themselves in the face with a frustrated groan, then looked at their leader. Paulo rolled his eyes, and nodded.

« _Waste him_.»

 _This is it_ , Tsuna thought with dread as they started using Lambo as a punching bag. _I-I have to help!_ He glanced back, surprised that Oni-san hadn't come out yet. But maybe…it was a sign.

He steeled his shaking nerves several times, and stepped into the alley.

The teens were slow to notice him - probably instinctively knowing he didn't pose a threat - until Enzo paused long enough to look around. He straightened in surprise, then frowned in recognition.

«What are _you_ looking at, huh?»

The others paused too and turned, apprehensive at the idea that they were seen by a stranger, but when they saw Leo they raised a brow in surprise.

«What? Whaddya want, brat?»

 _Go on, Tsuna, say_ something _. ANYTHING_. He opened his mouth, gaping like a fish, but no sound came out. Not even a squeak.

«'Tch. Just ignore him; it's not like he knows enough Italian to say anything anyway.»

«But if _he's_ here…do you think Signore Maso's here too? I mean, it's not like he'd stop us, but it doesn't look cool to be ganging up three-on-one on a kid from a different famiglia.»

Rossi's observations made the others hesitate, and Paulo scowled, swearing under his breath. He glanced back at the crying cow, then made up his mind.

He wrenched Lambo's head to stare at him dead in the eyes, and warned, «Cow, if you _ever_ come near us again, I'll make sure you won't live to tell about it. And no one will care, because who cares about the weak-ass _Bovino famiglia_?»

He spat the name like an insult, and punched him one last time before dumping him in a sniveling mess on the ground.

«And as for _you_ ,» Paulo turned his attention on a pale-faced, trembling Leo, «if you breathe _one word_ about this to _anyone_ , especially Signore Maso, we'll teach you a lesson in a subject _other_ than Italian.» He waved a hand at Rossi to translate, which he obliged, and just to make sure Leo understood him completely, he punched the frozen boy hard in the stomach before kicking the crumpled heap several times for good measure.

The leader of the teens straightened his school uniform, and nodded in satisfaction at his handiwork.

«Let's go.»

Tsuna heard rather than saw them leave, the dust they kicked up flying everywhere and making his eyes sting with more than tears as he whimpered and hunched in on himself, trying to control the pain by controlling his breath.

The sound of a wailing child forced him to look up again though, and through the dust and tears, he saw Lambo with blood and snot running down his nose, and a large bruise beginning to form around one teary eye.

Tsuna gritted his teeth, and with supreme effort, crawled over to the younger child.

«A…are you okay?» It was almost funny how he found his voice now, but the child didn't seem to hear him. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out a hand to touch him gently. «L…Lambo-kun?»

The baby cow suddenly launched himself at Tsuna, crying blood and snot and tears into his shirt and clutching his arms around him in a death grip.

 _Owowowowowow!_ He bit back from screaming, his own injuries flaring with the sudden pressure.

«Uh-um, Lambo, c-can you let go? Please?» He choked out a breath, and although the grip lessened slightly, it didn't help much as the toddler continued to cry.

 _He's really scared, and hurt. Kinda like…like me when I first arrived in Italy._ He slowly eased himself into a sitting position against the wall, carefully wrapping his arms around the boy in the same way Signorina had done for him when he'd cried.

 _The question is, how to get him to stop crying?_

Tsuna was no expert on kids, being an only child and having no younger cousins or friends to play with when he was back in Japan. So he thought of what his okaa-san would do when he came home crying from bullies or scrapes from being clumsy.

 _Okaa-san…she would sing while putting bandages on me._ He had no bandages, nor did he know how to fix injuries, but he _could_ sing.

" _Itai, itai, deteke_!"

That seemed to make Lambo pause for a second and look up, before he burst out crying again.

 _Oh right. He probably doesn't know any Japanese. Umm…then what should I sing?_ He thought about his singing lessons. Even though Signorina usually stuck to the basics (she said something about "learning how to walk before running"), she _did_ teach him a few easier songs.

 _Hmm. There's that one song that she said is from a kids' movie. Maybe Lambo would like that._

He took a few moments to even his breathing and gather his thoughts, the foreign lyrics coming easier to him once he remembered the tune. He couldn't recall what all the lyrics meant, but hopefully the Italian-born Lambo would know more than he did.

 _Non devi piangere, mio dolce amor,  
_ (Don't cry, my sweet love,)  
 _Il fiume ti cullerà.  
_ (The river will rock you.)  
 _Fa che il mio canto ti resti nel cuor,  
_ (Let my song stay in your heart,)  
 _Così insieme a te crescerà.  
_ (So it will be with you when you grow up.)

 _Fiume che scorri, gentile per me,  
_ (Flowing river, flow kind for me,)  
 _E grazie a te lui vivrà.  
_ (And thanks to you he will live.)  
 _Conosci un luogo, che libero è,  
_ (You know a place, in which he is free,)  
 _Fiume, conducilo là.  
_ (River, lead him there.)

 _Ora sei salvo, sicuro vivrai,  
_ (Now you are safe, you'll live secure,)  
 _La nostra speranza sei tu.  
_ (You are our hope.)  
 _Cresci fratello, ritornerai,  
_ (Grow up brother, you shall return,)  
 _Libererai tutti noi.  
_ (You will free us all.)(2)

He rocked Lambo like his mother did, and miraculously, the wailing boy calmed down to listen, blinking back his tears. When the song ended, he let go enough to lean back and look up at Tsuna, as if trying to decide whether he liked him or not.

This made the older boy panic a bit, wondering if Lambo would pull out another bomb if he leaned towards dislike.

 _Um, what else can I do to make him happy…oh! Right!_

He didn't have grapes, but he had a piece of honey candy that Signorina had given to him that day for doing a good job. He quickly pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to Lambo with a crooked smile.

It was snatched out of his fingers and stuffed into the boy's mouth before he could say anything, and he breathed an inner sigh of relief.

«La…Lambo's dream is to be the boss of the Bovino famiglia, a-and make everyone bow down to me.»

He sweatdropped. _Wow. Lambo-kun sure is a weird kid_. But he guessed that meant he was in the clear, and he was okay with that.

 _Speaking of being in the clear…_ he looked up, and sighed with relief when he didn't see an angry Oni-san glaring at him from around the corner. _I should go back_.

He spotted Lambo's things not too far away, and helped him put everything back into his…afro…and having no idea what to do with it, put the horn that fell off into Lambo's hands.

«I have to go.» He stood up and untangled himself from the child, but Lambo immediately latched on to his legs.

«Where're you going? The great Lambo didn't say you could leave!»

Tsuna's reply was cut short by the sound of gunfire and breaking glass really, _really_ close by, followed by a shrill scream. All the blood drained from his face.

 _CrapcrapcrapcrapCRAP._

«I gotta go! Lambo-kun, let me go!» He tried to pry the kid off, but to his dismay, this three-year-old was stronger than he was. « _Lambo!_ »

He heard Oni-san's gruff voice spit out some foul remark, then more gunfire, and he scrambled.

«Look, Lambo! There's candy over there!»

«Oooo, candy! Where?» The kid loosened his arms for a brief second, and he took the chance to bolt back towards the convenience store. «Where's the candy? _HEY!_ You tricked Lambo!»

Luckily (or not so luckily), he ran straight into one glowering Oni-san, who seized him by the shoulder.

«And what the _hell_ have _you_ been doing?»

Tsuna shook his head frantically.

«Piece of - ugh. Save it for later. We gotta run, _pronto._ »

Tsuna nodded and practically pulled at the man to start moving, and although Maso-oni was surprised, he went along.

« _WAIT! Wait for Lambooo!_ »

Tsuna winced inwardly but kept going, not wanting Lambo to catch the attention of his Oni-san. And although Oni-san cast a suspicious look behind him, he seemed to decide that whatever called out to them wasn't worth waiting for, as he picked up the lagging child and ran like his life depended on it.

* * *

(1): This song is _Tanabata-sama,_ also known as _Sasa no Ha Sara-sara._ Lyrics and tweaked translation from Mama Lisa's World.  
(2): This song is part of the Italian version of _Deliver Us_ , from _The Prince of Egypt._ Lyrics from Dreamworks, and modified translation from a combination of Google Translate and Bestkazamagirl93 (from YouTube). It's a bit different from the English lyrics, which I prefer, but oh well. Most of the meaning is still intact.

AN: Lavina is _awesome_ ; I love writing her. I hope you can see a bit of Gokudera in her.

On the other hand, Lambo was always one of my least favourite characters. I guess his "Most Annoying Mafia Member" title extends even to reality. But after writing him, I find him more exasperating and kind of funny in a really weird sort of way, which is an improvement. I also want to note that I picked a goose for him, because while geese are often viewed as being quite silly and lazy, they're traditionally viewed as a symbol of faithfulness and bravery. Perfect for one Lambo. I made him a bit older in this story as well (canonically, he's supposed to be 9 years younger than Tsuna, but he wouldn't have been born yet if I followed this).

Fun fact: I had to check the colour of Lambo's grenades, and they're pink. For real.

For those who didn't catch it, Maso is in charge of extorting money from the people who own the convenience store, in exchange for "protection". And when they can't pay up, bad things happen.

Finally, the songs will serve as support to the plot rather than being the focal point; I'm not planning to turn this into a songfic.


	9. Intermezzo: Tre

AN: Sorry for the slight delay again, because of reality. I'm the type of person who prefers to take things a little slower, but make sure I get it right the first time around, than try to rush to the finish but then end up having to fix a lot of mistakes.

Regardless, thank you again for all the support.

 **WARNING:** Mild swearing.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Katekyo Hitman Reborn!_ , but I did create Maso, Gavino, and Lodovico to fit into the plot.

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _Intermezzo: Tre_

«Good mor...ning, Leo-kun, Signore Massimo.»

Lavina paused at the boy's hunched form, wondering why he was walking like an old man. _Strange._ And he hadn't given her a verbal response; he simply nodded without looking at her.

«Salve Signorina Gokudera. I'll be waiting outside as usual.»

«Very well. I'll see you later.»

When teacher and student were alone in the music room, she gave him another critical look and was about to say something when he straightened himself, expertly hiding a wince that she would have missed if she weren't looking so carefully.

But something else caught her attention.

"Leo-kun? Why do you have makeup on?"

His eyes widened and he actually looked as surprised as she did.

"Wh-what? I'm not wearing makeup!"

"I'm pretty sure I know what makeup looks like, and I see it on you."

She knelt down and reached out a hand slowly to his face, pausing as he reflexively shied away before remembering it was _her_ and not one of his many bullies.

He stood as still as he could when she cupped his chin with a hand and quickly yet gently rubbed her thumb on his left cheek, then pulled away to show the light dusting of brownish powder that came off.

"See? This is…is…" She gasped in horror when she caught a glimpse of exactly _what_ the concealer was concealing. "Is that a _bruise?_ Are you okay? What happened?!"

She saw Leo pull away again, but she kept her hands on his shoulders to prevent him from moving too far.

" _Tell me_. _What. Happened._ "

"I-i-i-it's n-nothing! Really!"

Even though Leo-kun was frantically shaking his head and Massimo's warning echoed in her mind, she just couldn't let it slide.

"Leo-kun. Please, tell me. I promise I won't tell anyone else." She grasped his hand in her own, and pleaded with her voice and eyes. "This much. Please, let me help you at least _this_ much."

Leo was silent for a long moment, subconsciously worrying his bottom lip. She knew that if he revealed anything, it would be vague at best, but it'd be better than nothing.

"I, I did what you said. About helping people."

She cocked her head, trying to remember exactly what she'd said. Something about being kind…and breaking rules…

She paled considerably at the thought.

"W-wait. I'm guessing you tried to help someone, and got in trouble for it? And _I_ was the one who encouraged you to do this?!"

Leo quickly shook his head, trying to reassure her.

"No! I j-just got hurt because I'm pretty useless and helping people."

"Oh Leo. Don't say that; I'm sure whoever you helped appreciated your kindness anyway." She sighed. "Well. I suppose getting upset won't help your bruise, but I want you to promise me something." She gave him a serious look, and he nodded. "Promise that next time you try to help someone, find a way where no one will get hurt, or at least not too badly. Can you promise me?"

He nodded again and she smiled a watery smile, then gave him a tight hug.

Leo gasped and flinched away, making her release him almost immediately.

"Leo? What's wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you okay? I'm so sorry!"

She could see he was trying to shrug it off, but his pale face and tense posture told her otherwise.

With a dreadful suspicion, she darted a hand to lift the corner of Leo's shirt upwards, and she gaped at the mottled purple skin underneath.

« _Dio mio!_ »

Mortified, the boy jerked back and tugged his shirt down to cover it up again. He turned pleading eyes to her, silently begging her not to say anything more.

She rubbed her temples, letting out an exasperated sigh. _Trouble seems to follow him like a leech, and my meddling's not helping._

"Are you sure you're okay? Absolutely sure? Do you need to see the doctor, or at least put some cream on? You can't tell me _that_ doesn't hurt."

He shook his head for everything but the last statement.

"It hurts, but…but not really." He blushed. "I-I mean, it hurts, but I don't feel _bad_ about it. Is…is that really weird?"

He looked at her anxiously, honey-brown eyes willing her to understand.

She did, and she was blown away. Here was a young child who, despite his own horrific situation, didn't mind getting hurt for someone else's sake. _This world needs more people like him._ And she'd do anything to protect this little spark of hope as much as she could.

"It _is_ kind of weird, but a good kind. The best kind." She beamed at him, and put her arms on his shoulders and gave them a squeeze. "Even though I don't know exactly what you did, you still chose to do good, and I'm proud of you."

When the corners of his lips lifted into a shy yet genuine smile, she knew she'd said the right thing.

* * *

« _Where is he?! Where's that little shit?!_ »

«Uh, you might wanna calm down boss–»

«Calm down? _CALM DOWN?!_ That stinkin' _runt_ ratted on us somehow, and now all our asses are on the line! "I told you not to damage the prisoner _visibly_ , Paulo," he says. And we didn't!»

«Umm, actually, you did. You accidentally landed a kick on his cheek. _Ow!_ The heck was that for?!»

«You know Rossi, for someone so smart, you can actually say pretty dumb things sometimes.»

« _Grazie_ , Enzo. But can you please put your common sense to better use and _help me find that freaking runt!_ »

«Yes boss.»

Tsuna held his breath from his hiding place inside the unused closet, waiting for the sound of stomping feet to fade. That evening after he stood up for Lambo, Oni-san had pried the events from him, although he left out the parts about the cow-child. The older man had frowned, and sent him to his room to have dinner while muttering something about his dislike for repeating himself.

He knew it would get him in trouble with the teens, because even when he tried to lie about tripping and falling on his face, Oni-san had pointed out that his injuries weren't possible unless he had his hands tied behind his back.

He'd gotten quite good at finding all the possible hiding spaces in the mansion, at least within the restricted areas he was allowed to enter.

His head whipped around to the sound of footsteps and dove back into the closet, barely managing to close the door with a silent _click_ before the teens rounded the corner again.

«'Tch. He's not here either.»

«Don't mind it boss – we teach him tomorrow afternoon anyway, and there's no way he can hide then.»

«Yeah. This time, we'll just aim for his body.»

«Gross man; I didn't know you were interested in little boys.»

«What? That's not what I – ewwww, _hell_ no!»

The other two laughed at Rossi's expense, and Tsuna shuddered reflexively.

 _I think I need more hiding places._

* * *

Lambo scowled. He hated being the last one to be picked up from school, almost as much as he hated school itself.

 _Lambo doesn't need to learn anything; Lambo is already a hitman!_

But he faltered, knowing he still hadn't succeeded his latest mission: To eliminate the strongest Mafioso in mafia school. His papa and Don had said as much; to «kill the strongest in order to prove your own strength.» It was a big mission, and he knew if he could do this, the other kids would finally see how great he is and stop making fun of him just because he's from the Bovino famiglia.

He sniffed, rocking back and forth on the edge of the school gates he'd climbed up on. He tried his best to tolerate whenever things didn't go his way, but it was hard to fight against three big boys, even with all the special weapons papa gave him.

 _Lambo will be the Don of the Bovino famiglia! Lambo will rule over everyone and make them play with me whenever I want!_

He didn't like being made fun of, and he liked getting hurt even less, but if there's one thing he hated the most, it was that nobody believed he could do what he said he'd do.

And if he were a little more honest with himself, he'd admit that it made him feel very lonely.

It started when his mama went to «be with the stars», as papa said, and even though he could kind of understand why mama would leave him for the stars (she'd always say all the coolest and strongest Mafiosos became stars), he had no one by his side anymore. He'd asked papa what he could do to bring her back to them, to _Lambo_ , but his papa just looked at him with wet eyes and told him he should become a star too.

It made sense. Kinda. So Lambo put up with the loneliness so he could become strong and cool, like a star. Then maybe mama would finally come back.

But then Lambo found someone who didn't laugh at him, or hurt him. Someone who made the loneliness go away by singing a beautiful song; the same way mama made him feel better when he tripped or fell down or made fun of by the other kids.

And as much as he wanted to say he didn't need any help because he was "The Great Lambo", he couldn't deny that the blond-haired boy made him feel safe. Wanted. Like mama did when she was still with him.

He sniffed again. And that kid had the nerve to trick Lambo and run off before he could ask him anything, like his name or where he lived.

 _Stupid blondie. Why doesn't he go to school? Maybe he goes to a different one._

The sound of a laughing group of kids interrupted his thinking, and he looked over to see his target and his lackeys coming out from the secondary school section.

 _Oh! I gotta try out my new gun!_ He stuck a hand in his hair to pull it out, then paused when he thought of a better idea.

 _Wait…when Lambo saw the stupid blondie, stupid Paulo seemed to know who he is. I know! I'll go ask them where the stupid blondie is. Then he can play and sing more songs for Lambo!_

He cackled with unrestrained glee and dropped down, landing on his butt with an _oof_. But he ignored the pain in favour of running over.

« _Oi!_ Stupid grass-head! Stupid no-eyes! Stupid Paulo! Lambo needs you to answer his question!»

* * *

Gavino stood ramrod straight, a stark contrast to his coworker who was hunched over and pacing back and forth behind his desk.

«It's not working, Gav! Not anymore!»

«Don't call me 'Gav.'»

He sent a half-hearted glare to Lodovico, but the urgency of their situation wouldn't change. They needed a solution, and they needed one _fast_.

«What's the latest development? You know I've been busy.»

A snort.

«I hardly know _anything_ you do anymore. You do everything so secretively that I sometimes wonder if you've fallen off the face of the earth.» The older man shook his head out of admiration of Gavino's skills. «No wonder you were so quickly appointed as the Don's 'Left Hand'.»

«The opposite could be said of you, Signore 'Right Hand'.» He waved off their official titles, preferring to be known for what he did rather than a bunch of cheap words on paper. «And you know that everything I do, undercover or not, is for the sake of this famiglia. Even this whole _uccello_ fiasco.»

Lodovico winced, running a hand through his silver-streaked hair.

«I heard bits and pieces about your secret project from my son Rossi, and believe me, it still took me a while to put two and two together. Really, Gavino? You think a _child_ can succeed where drugs can't? Where science can't?»

«He poses a better chance than our most recent bird-brained idea.»

«…You're cracking jokes now. You know I hate it when you try to tell jokes – it makes all my hairs stand on end.»

«Why, thank you. That is a great compliment.» There was an edge of sarcasm in his voice, yet it couldn't cover the eerily pleased expression on Gavino's face. «All _joking_ aside, I think my subordinate Maso has a point – the song of a child has the potential to exceed the song of a bird.»

«But we need more _time_! Time to train, to experiment, to test and retest! And we're running out of it, and fast!» Lodovico stopped pacing and threw his hands up in despair. «The nightingale worked for the longest – six whole months – and the lyrebird wasn't too shabby either, but most of the birds either died from our subordinates' stupidity, or from our Don shooting them for not singing on command, singing too loudly, too softly, too brightly, etcetera etcetera!»

«Hn. Another reason why a child works better – they're easier to train. _You_ try teaching a morning bird to sing at night, and I'm sure your hair will go white within the month. Or you'll turn bald from pulling it out.»

He scowled. «Whatever; that's not the point. The point is, we can't go on like this. Those six months that the nightingale bought us were absolute _heaven_ compared to our lives a year ago, and our subordinates, let alone us superiors, aren't willing to go back to where we were. Don't try to deny it Gav – even _you_ mellowed out enough to let Piedro's stupid mistakes slide. Mistakes that you would've shot him for just weeks ago.»

« _Don't call me Gav._ » But he grudgingly agreed, knowing that his counterpart was right, as he often was. «Anyway. How long do you think the birds we have left will last?»

«My best estimate? Six months, tops. And if we absolutely _have_ to buy more time after that, then we can either smuggle more nightingales or resort to hypnotism. And you know how much I hate anything to do with pseudoscience.»

«Hm.» Gavino tapped his chin thoughtfully, going through other possible solutions before settling on a conclusion. «All of this can help alleviate the symptoms, but they can't provide a cure.»

«Damn right. And we need that cure before the entire famiglia is dead from the aftereffects.»

«Alright. I'll talk to Maso and see what we can do.»

«Thanks.» He shot him a grateful look. «And remember, Gav – mum's the word.»

Agunshot rang out, and Lodovico's eyes widened to dinner plates at the sight of the smoking bullet hole two inches to his left.

« _What the hell?!_ »

«I told you: Don't call me 'Gav'.»

* * *

It'd been nine months, two weeks, three days and two hours since Tsuna was kidnapped, and Iemitsu was burning in his own personal hell.

After their heated meeting, he'd apologised to Nono for being rude, even though both of them knew he didn't really mean it. But Nono simply nodded, and told him to return to his duties.

 _Duty_. He'd never been so disgusted with that word before. Before, it was a badge of honour and pride to be in his position, and he'd been thrilled with the trust that the leader of the great Vongola famiglia placed in him, but now it just sickened him with every passing day.

With their manpower halved, rebuilding was frustratingly slow, and since he was the leader of the external advisors, managing the aftereffects of crises fell under his jurisdiction, especially in terms of finding out all the Varia members who defected, their motives, and investigating the whole truth behind the horrid affair.

Which basically meant a _LOT_ of paperwork. Paperwork he had to do while his baby boy was out there suffering god knows what. Paperwork he had to complete while he could be investigating and finding clues he might have overlooked. Paperwork he had to do while his wife waited at home, calling him every day to see if he finally had an update for her.

He'd stopped answering her calls altogether a few months ago – something he never thought he'd ever do.

He wasn't sure exactly when it was, but something inside him _broke_.

Which is why he found himself with a scrawled phone number on a piece of torn paper, his fingers hovering over the final digit he needed to press on his recently-purchased burner phone.

It was an idea he had a while back. He knew he couldn't ask help from people within the Vongola, or even close or distant allies in case Nono caught wind of it. But he needed people with good investigative skills; skills that included methods most others didn't approve of.

It took him a while to figure out how to contact the Don of this certain famiglia, especially since he couldn't let anyone else find out, but he finally found the phone number he needed through the black market.

Desperate times, desperate measures, and he'd passed that point ages ago.

 _It's not right to do this. To ask for help? From an unallied famiglia? From a famiglia that does unspeakable things to others for the sake of science?_ The broken pieces whispered, but he quashed them down.

 _I_ have _to do this. For myself. For Tsuna._

He took a deep breath, cast one last look around to check that he was truly alone, then pressed the call button.

His phone barely had a chance to ring before it was answered.

«Salve, Estraneo Nono. I would like to employ your...services.»

* * *

AN: Lodovico is Rossi's father and the Don's Right Hand Man, while Gavino serves as the Don's Left Hand Man. One runs the main operations and assists the Don directly, while the other handles covert operations and is in charge of cleanup so the police can't track them down or arrest their members. Everyone under them are considered grunts and minions who do most of the dirty work. Again, I created this character for the sole purpose of furthering the plot, so he's more of a side character, even more so than Gavino is.

No cookies for guessing who the next KHR character will be, although I think his appearance will be different from what you may expect. Feel free to leave a favourite, follow, review or comment to let me know how the story's doing! And please let me know if it ever gets too confusing, as sometimes the plot is really clear in my own mind but I may leave out several important details that I think are unimportant (but were actually important exposition for the reader).


	10. Two Pigeons

AN: These chapters are getting longer, so updates will change to once a week unless I'm on a roll.

To a recent reviewer, hopefully this chapter answers your question. Also, most Italian bakeries sell more than just plain bread, and Maso feeds Tsuna an assortment. He's smart enough to spend more now than to risk having to take Tsuna to the doctor's again.

Regardless, please enjoy the new chapter!

Disclaimer: Only the characters I created are mine (i.e. Maso, Gaivno, and Marco). The rest are from _Reborn!._

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _I had two pigeons bright and gay,  
_ _They flew from me the other day.  
_ _What was the reason they did go?  
_ _I cannot tell, for I do not know._

* * *

 _Chapter 6: Two Pigeons_

Time always seemed to slow even more than usual during Italian winters, and this year's was no exception. But changes still occurred, no matter how slowly.

Maso brushed the light dusting of snow off his shoulders as Leo knocked on the music teacher's door. The kid had grown tall enough to be able to reach the large door knocker (if he tiptoed) – the typical lionhead holding a ring of steel in its mouth – but he never used it.

 _Huh. Probably doesn't even know what it's for_.

The door swung open, they all said their customary greetings, and Maso took his usual spot on the sofa after Signorina Gokudera pressed a mug of hot coffee into his cold hands.

He wasn't surprised anymore, ever since the temperature dropped and she'd insisted on giving both Maso and Leo a hot drink to "warm them up". And it didn't escape his notice that she'd slip her student cups of hot chocolate, lemon tea, lemon with honey…little treats here and there. She'd offered flimsy excuses at first, then dropped the whole charade entirely because she knew he knew what she was trying to do.

He knew she was spoiling Leo a little, but he still turned a blind eye because her coffee was damn good – black, scalding hot, with a touch of sugar and just the way he liked it. That, and because Leo was improving faster than he'd expected, ever since Gokudera entered the picture.

He'd always assumed the kid was slow, and even though he'd sworn off having children, he couldn't help but be fascinated by the kid's development. Naturally, his musical talent was being honed in the right way, like a diamond being cut and smoothed and polished to shine its brightest. Although Maso could only hear muted sounds through the music room door, he could still tell the difference. The other day, he'd even taken out his phone to record a short audio clip of Leo singing _Fa La Ninna, Fa La Nanna_ , a song he hadn't heard ever since his mother died.

It made him oddly nostalgic – an emotion he thought he'd never feel since joining the mafia.

Apart from singing, the kid had also picked up many more Italian phrases, and even a few English ones. That seemed to be a complete accident on his part: on account of his accumulating work pile, he'd been forced to send Piedro out with Leo a few times, despite the oaf's initial blunder. Afterwards, he'd gotten a report from a slightly sheepish Piedro that sometimes, if the lesson ran overtime (on account of the very bored idiot who would lose track of time by nodding off on the couch), Signorina Gokudera would give Leo a few extra language lessons, turning grammatical rules and difficult words into song mnemonics.

Maso could attest to that, as the kid would often mutter short melodies under his breath during his Italian lessons. Apparently, that was how the kid learned so fast. It seemed the scheming lady was determined, and Maso couldn't really complain as she was making his job much easier, all for the cheap rate of thirty-five Euros per lesson. Of course, he had to be careful that she didn't teach any unwanted information, but for the moment, all was well in Maso's world, at least in terms of his charge.

Other aspects, though…

He sighed, deciding to get comfortable with his cup of hot coffee and couch, and try not to think about the impending sense of doom he felt each time he received an official summons from his superior.

* * *

Ever since he'd helped the cow-child Lambo, Tsuna's life had become a little crazy. The kid had somehow tracked him down and made it his…life's mission? To, ah, 'play' with him as much as possible. Most of the time with the teenagers or Oni-san right there as well.

The first time Tsuna saw him after the beating the teens gave them was when he was heading out to his music lesson with Oni-san two weeks later. Lambo had almost given him a heart attack when he literally swooped down from above, yelling his customary introduction and tagging the demand to «Play with me stupid blondie!»

He'd looked over to his keeper fearfully, but to his surprise, Oni-san just rolled his eyes and told him to ignore the stupid cow.

He tried, his short legs following Oni-san along the familiar route to Signorina's place, but every time he glanced back Lambo would be right there, trying but failing to be sneaky about following them.

It didn't help that he couldn't stop blabbering about how «great» he was or what his favourite candies were or how he was going to rule the world.

Oni-san's vein of patience finally snapped, and when he swirled around, Tsuna flinched away, covering his head with his arms.

«Find a way to get rid of him. _Pronto._ I'll give you five minutes.»

And to his great surprise, Oni-san simply turned and went into the nearest coffee shop, no doubt to get a cup of his favourite drink.

Lambo immediately latched onto Tsuna then, shouting «Play with me! Play with me!» with all the excitement of a three-year-old.

Tsuna had been torn, not really wanting to be mean and rejecting the lonely kid outright, but also not wanting to get in trouble with Oni-san, who was giving him a chance at not being punished.

He remembered what Signorina had said to him – to try and find the best solution where no one would get hurt.

His brain was blanking out for the first few seconds, but then the warm feeling he'd sometimes get when he was in trouble came to him at that moment.

«Lambo, I know you want to play together, but if I do, my…my Fratello over there will get very angry and scary. And when he's angry, he'll start hitting others. _But,_ » Tsuna quickly added before Lambo's wobbling eyes would start leaking, «if you still want to play, go to that big house over there.» He pointed back to the mansion where they'd come from, which was still visible among all the smaller houses.

Lambo nodded eagerly, and instantly started dragging Tsuna back towards the mansion so they could play _right now._

«Not now, Lambo! I can only play with you on Sunday mornings!»

«But Lambo wants to play _now!_ »

He sighed, and picked up the kid so he could look him in the eyes.

«Lambo. You _must_ listen to me. My Fratello isn't a nice person, and you don't want him to hit you, right?» He saw Lambo scrunch his nose in thought for a few seconds, then nodded. «If you can promise to stay away, then I promise I will play with you, every Sunday morning outside the big house. Can you promise?»

Lambo sniffed, tilting his head as if seriously considering his options, then stuck out a pinky finger.

«Promise?»

Tsuna smiled a rare smile, and hooked his own pinky around Lambo's tiny one.

«Promise.»

Then, without warning, Lambo bounded away, cackling evilly. He would have sweatdropped, but Oni-san returned at that moment, coffee in hand.

«Is that cow gone?»

«Y-yes, Oni-san.»

«Good. Let's get going; we don't want to be late for your lesson.»

They'd continued heading to Signorina's place, and since then Tsuna noticed quite a few changes in his daily life.

Firstly, and most obviously, were his Sunday mornings. Before, he would do extra stamina training, as he didn't have any normal scheduled lessons on Sundays. It was the only day he was allowed to run outside, although he had to be accompanied by either the teens or Piedro. The teens complained at first, but once Rossi turned it into a game of "Who can 'tag' the runt the most number of times in two hours", they almost always accompanied him on his Sunday 'training'. And 'tagging' was translated to 'punching'.

It used to be the absolute worst time of the week, despite being able to be outside his stuffy prison. But that changed with the addition of Lambo.

True to his word, the kid would come every single Sunday morning, no matter the season or weather. And to Tsuna's amusement and horror, he took to their so-called 'game' like a fish to water.

« _Gyahahaha!_ Fear me, the great hitman Lambo!»

«Ugh…why can't you just _go away?!_ »

«I, the great Lambo, will kill you today stupid Paulo!»

«Get the hell away from me you cow! Rossi, Enzo, get that net ready! We're gonna settle this once and for all!»

But to Tsuna's surprise, he discovered that while he and Lambo had the disadvantages of being younger and smaller, they would more often than not be able to give the teens the slip whenever they worked together.

Correction – whenever Lambo was willing to work with him.

Lambo was a complete wild card; sometimes he'd follow Tsuna's frantic instructions to run or hide, while other times he'd do something none of them could predict, like pulling out a grenade or missile launcher out of his hair while muttering « _To. Le. Ra. Re._ »(1)

They all made sure to 'play' further away from the mansion after being severely punished by Oni-san for making holes in the outer walls.

Regardless, it was…interesting to work with Lambo during their tag games from hell. He was forced to think fast and move faster, not only for his own sake but also to save Lambo from being caught.

He didn't know exactly when, but he'd begun to think that Sunday mornings weren't so bad after all, especially on stormy days.

On stormy days, the teens were not quite so relentless in their pursuit, and often called the chase off in favour of huddling under the canopy of a nearby café and having a smoke.

Tsuna and Lambo had found a safe spot up a large tree, mostly sheltered from the rain but still in sight of the older boys, who were still under duty to watch Tsuna even when they took a break.

During these times, Lambo almost always made Tsuna sing for him, or if not, he'd babble about his famiglia or his past week until he fell asleep to the song and the lull of falling rain.

It was a mutual form of comfort, and Tsuna went from cowering at every clap of thunder and lightning to holding a tight arm around the younger child while he sang.

Lambo didn't seem to be afraid of thunderstorms at all, although Tsuna chalked it up to Lambo's frequent use of firearms and explosives. And that seemed to make him feel braver, too. Just a little.

It was during a particularly rough thunderstorm when a wet and sleepy Lambo asked (demanded) Tsuna for his name, and without thinking, Tsuna gave him his real name.

«'Suna'? What's that? Sounds funny.»

He'd quickly backpedalled and covered his mistake with a «Sono Leo. _Leo,_ » hoping that "Tsuna" would sound enough like "Sono".

But Lambo simply yawned and dismissed it with a nod.

«Lambo will call you Fratello. Or stupid blondie.»

There was no arguing with a child like Lambo, so Tsuna sighed with both relief and resignation, and they'd sat in companionable silence until the kid elbowed him and told him to sing another song.

He was more careful with what he said after that, but thankfully Lambo was more interested in himself than Tsuna, and Tsuna was grateful that he didn't have to tell more lies. He was already living a lie, which was difficult enough to get used to. But for now, both Signorina and Lambo made it bearable – the former giving him the comfort of order and routine, and the latter bringing sparks of unpredictability and chaos.

* * *

\- _6 days ago, somewhere in southeastern Italy -_

It was dark. But then again, it was always dark in their cells, even when he wasn't faking unconsciousness because he'd just been shot with a Possession Bullet.

 _Even so, it's never quiet_.

As if on cue, he heard the occasional moaning of a fellow prisoner in pain, and the constant sniffing of another. Probably a girl.

She wouldn't last. But then again, most of them won't, if things continued this way.

The nine-year-old boy waited for a moment before shifting his head so his eyepatch slipped off, then tapped into the power that was spilling out of his gunshot wound, and connected it to the darkness shifting beneath his right eye.

He let them mingle and build into an aching pressure, then twitched his fingers to control the expansion of what he calls his "aura". He felt his consciousness leave his body as it flooded his tiny prison, then slipped through the gaps between the metal bars with practiced ease.

 _Okay. First step complete. Now to see if I can finally achieve the Sixth Realm._

It would be the perfect revenge, if he managed to use the same power that was bled into him to destroy his so-called 'famiglia'. He'd suffered through countless days of surgery, both with and without anesthesia, suffered through blood-curdling pain and intensifying burns, put up with needles and scalpels and people taking pieces of him while shoving alien pieces back until even _he_ didn't know what he was anymore, and he knows he's not the only one to go through this.

« _It's for the sake of science,_ » they said. « _You're our stepping-stones so we can regain our famiglia's fallen glory. It is an honour even if you die._ »

Their attempts at brainwashing were almost cute since they didn't even try lie about it, but to him, that made everything more boring. More predictable.

 _Oh well. Predictable is better for me._

Like how he knew how every day at 12am and pm sharp, the guards would change. Like their feeding schedule, or which scientist or tormenter took what kind of break at what time. Like where the important keys were kept, or which person had the codes to which doors.

And in turn, he'd traded their cruel truths for crafted lies.

They thought he could only access one out of the Six Paths of Reincarnation, but in actual fact, he was close to completion. All he had to do was pretend to be close to a breakthrough every time they shot him with a Possession Bullet, then "fail", and after being punished he would lie immobile on the ground for a while before practicing for real.

He'd gone through hell too many times to be caught now, and this game of cat-and-mouse was the only thing that thrilled him anymore.

 _And there's always the right time for everything._

He projected himself down the narrow hallway, past the crying children and phased through the door, looking down the outer hallways for someone he could practice his skills on.

 _Hm. The guards are changing shifts, so there should be a few leftovers hanging out in the break room. And…there. Found a toy to play with._

A large guard was waving his coworkers away, saying he had to take a dump. And while the bathroom wasn't the most pleasant place to be, at least this meant no prying eyes.

He waited until the man locked the bathroom stall behind him, then phased through and immediately threw up an illusion of something he was very familiar with: complete darkness. He'd found early on that it was easier to use the First Realm's power of illusions if he could construct it in his own mind, and so darkness it was.

The guard, thinking that the lights had blown out, simply cursed and fumbled through his vest for a torch. But when he clicked it on, what he 'saw' would give him nightmares for weeks to come.

«What the f– _AAHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOO! C-C-C-COCKROACHES!_ »

The boy flooded his vision with mountains of the filthy bugs crawling out of the toilet bowl, and the guard practically peed himself with fear. And in that split instant of vulnerability, he tried to overtake the man's consciousness with his own.

He felt the man's aura shift a bit, but despite going haywire, it was wedged firmly in place no matter how much he tried to possess him.

« _NICOOO! FRANCOOO! HELP MEEEEEEE!_ »

The man had even pulled out his gun and was shooting randomly in a wild panic, and the boy would have laughed if he wasn't so frustrated at failing yet again.

 _Why can't I possess him? What am I missing?_

Two other guards decided to burst in the bathroom right at that moment, so the boy quickly withdrew his illusions and left them to deal with the aftermath of a half-crazed guard who was still shooting in terror.

He barely made it back to his own body when the door to the prison room opened with a loud _clang_ , and one of the head researchers walked in with a clipboard in hand and several assistants in tow.

«Next, we'll be experimenting on numbers 153, 155, 156, 159, and 169. Everyone else can be fed.»

There were a few whimpers as the corresponding children were dragged out of their cells, but he remained quiet when he too was dragged out despite the fact that they'd experimented on him a mere hour ago.

One particularly daring (or stupid) kid even started yelling profanities and saying the researchers can go screw themselves, which earned him a searing zap with the usual cattle prod.

 _Fufufu. That kid…what's his name again? Ken? He could be pretty useful as a distraction when I make my escape._

There weren't many kids his age who were still around anymore, so he made it a point to connect their name to their number. Those who were still alive would definitely be useful, since they would be even more desperate than he was.

He was dragged along by the rough hands of an assistant, and he snuck a quick look around.

 _Ken, Olivia, Tony, Chikusa, and me. Maybe they're testing different combinations of senses? Or maybe they're deciding to focus on the older kids, and shoot us all with Possession Bullets._

The tricky part was not to die when being shot (which was an already bizarre concept: to be shot by a bullet, and somehow get stronger from it instead of dying on the spot), and he wondered if any of them would be left behind this time.

 _Oh well. Not like I care, as long as I make it out._

He was close; very close, like having an almost complete jigsaw puzzle and knowing what the final outcome would look like. There were still a few pieces missing though, and he couldn't do anything until he'd found them or made them himself.

For now, Mukuro decided to bide his time and wait. After all, he'd been waiting ever since hell had been born inside him.

* * *

«Salve, Signore Marchesi.»

His superior nodded at the greeting Maso gave him, then gave the blond boy next to him a pointed stare. Maso quickly nudged Leo with a foot and startled him out of his frozen state.

«S-s-salve, S-Signore Marchesi.»

It came out as a squeak, and Maso winced before schooling his features.

«Salve. Have a seat.»

He did, pulling the kid so he would stand next to him while Signore looked him over with a critical eye.

He tried not to fidget. He'd been preparing for this meeting for the past few weeks, and he was pretty confident that it would go smoothly as long as Leo didn't mess up.

That was the thought that made him most anxious.

«You may begin your progress report, Maso.»

«Si Signore.» He straightened subconsciously, steeling his nerves.

 _Here goes nothing._

«While I wouldn't say the prisoner is completely fluent in Italian, I'm pleased to say he has a firmer grasp of syntax and grammatical rules, and his vocabulary has expanded significantly. In addition, he's also picked up some English. This is in part due to the music teacher you recommended, who teaches him both Italian and English lullabies, but of course I continued to focus on his Italian studies. He has improved to the point where I don't even have to use Japanese anymore. As for his singing, he has learned many new songs, and has improved on his vocal range and depth. I have a written report on his progress from Signorina Gokudera herself.»

He passed the report to his boss, knowing that she wrote a glowing review on Leo's development. But the man merely skimmed through it with a bored look before tossing it into the bin.

«Seems to me that Signorina Gokudera has done more than you have.»

Maso fought to keep the scowl off his face, and when he saw his superior's faint smirk, he sighed.

 _Sadistic freak._

«You shouldn't think ugly thoughts, Maso, unless you're sure you can hide them. You may be smarter than many others, but you would never best me at poker.» His boss stared long enough to make him squirm, then moved on. «Anyway. Regardless of how eloquently you or the lady describes the prisoner's accomplishments, I think a live demonstration will be the best proof in this situation. Don't you agree?»

«…Excuse me, sir?»

His mouth went dry at the unexpected request.

 _Crap. I hadn't prepared for_ this.

«De Luca. The Don grows tired, and so do I. In more ways than one.» He shot Maso a stern look. «Your time is running out. Or did you think I was the magnanimous sort?» Maso shook his head emphatically. «I thought not. Therefore, I require proof that this… _investment_ is still worthwhile. A fair request, is it not?»

«Y-yes. Of course, Signore Marchesi.»

«Well said.» When Maso had no response to his sarcasm, he turned to the prisoner instead. «Now, boy. Let me hear you sing.»

The blond hadn't even twitched since Maso sat down, and he looked like a statue.

A petrified statue.

Thinking he didn't understand, which should be impossible if Maso's report was true, Gavino stood up and gave Leo a clear command.

« _Sing_.»

Maso snapped out of his own horror-induced trance and shook Leo on the shoulder, hissing « _Sing, you idiot!_ »

But whatever the boy was hearing and seeing seemed to go right over his head.

 _He's still traumatised by the last time he met Signore Marchesi,_ Maso realised with growing panic. _Crap. Is there anything...what should I do?_

A few agonising moments of silence crawled past, and his boss shook his head in disappointment. Then he reached into his shoulder holster and drew out his gun.

«What a shame. What a damn shame,» he whispered softly.

He took off the safety, aimed the barrel at the boy, and cocked the hammer _._

« _WAIT!_ »

Maso lurched forward reflexively, and winced at the expression on Gavino's face.

«Uh…um…» Scrambling around, he suddenly remembered the recording on his phone. «I have proof that he sings better than before! Well, that is if Signore doesn't mind listening to a recorded version.»

He held his breath.

Gavino seemed to debate with himself for a second before putting the safety back on his gun, although he didn't put it away just yet.

«…Go on.»

Maso breathed a sigh of relief and swiftly took out his phone, pulling up the most recent audio clip and pressing play.

There was a constant hum of static in the background, and the audio was muffled as he was recording through the door, but otherwise, he could hear the unmistakable tinkling of a piano in the background.

 _«…Not bad Leo-kun, but let's try again. This time, don't forget to add the dynamics, and remember to count yourself in_.»

He could just make out Signorina Gokudera's soft and melodic voice, before she played the intro of the song.

And then Leo's voice joined in.

 _Fa la ninna, fa la nanna,  
_ (Go to sleep, go to sleepy,)  
 _Nella braccia della mamma.  
_ (In the arms of your mother.)  
 _Fa la ninna bel bambin,  
_ (Go to sleep lovely child,)  
 _Fa la nanna, bambin bel,  
_ (Go to sleepy, child so lovely,)  
 _Fa la ninna, fa la nanna,  
_ (Go to sleep, go to sleepy,)  
 _Nella braccia della mamma.  
_ (In the arms of your mother.)(2)

Even with all the static, Leo's soft and soothing voice could be clearly heard, lulling gently like waves washing on a white beach.

It was obvious how much he'd improved, especially with the variation in tone and volume. To Maso, the boy's voice also sounded more complete: it was fuller and had more depth and thought behind the one short song.

When the recording ended, he chanced a glance at his superior, who'd furrowed his eyebrows in concentration.

After what felt like an eternity, Gavino's face cleared, and he holstered his gun.

«Not bad.» He still shot Maso a stern look. «Make no mistake; I'm only letting this pass because I'm assuming the real thing is better than this audio clip. I expect a live version next time. Do I make myself clear?»

He nodded, relieved beyond words.

«On another note, I will increase your budget, on one account – you will increase his workload so he will improve faster. This includes lengthening his lesson time with Signorina Gokudera, as she seems to have much more effective teaching methods than you do.»

Maso brightened at the prospect of more funding, although it was dampened by the fact that he'd somehow have to keep tabs on the kid without wasting away his entire morning. But he complied with a quick «Si Signore.»

«Very well. You are dismissed.»

«Grazie, Signore Marchesi. Arrivederla.»

He bowed, then pushed down on Leo's head to do the same before grabbing his shoulder and turning to leave.

He was halfway out the door when his boss called out again.

«Oh, and Maso?»

«Si Signore?»

«Make sure you get rid of his stage fright by the next progress check. Such weakness won't do us any good now, would it?»

«No Signore.»

He bowed again and finally left the room, feeling like he was the one who dodged a bullet.

 _Damn kid'd better be grateful._

* * *

 _\- 1 week later, in the Bar di Crepusculo -_

The door opened with a tinkle, and the bartender looked up from cleaning the counter.

«I'm sorry Signore, but this place has been booked out by someone. I can recommend…»

He cut himself off when he really _looked_ , and saw…nobody? He shook his head, wondering if he was hearing things.

 _Must've gotten too little sleep last night._

He turned back to clean, only to be badly startled when a black shape appeared out of nowhere and greeted him with a «Ciaossu.»

«What the _–_ »

His hand darted for the gun hidden behind the counter, but the cocking of a pistol warned him against it.

«Now now, Marco. I don't think that's how you should greet a customer.»

Said customer was standing on the barstool, and even though he was barely more than a foot high, Marco immediately dropped his hands in surrender and lowered his head in respect.

«B-b-buona sera, Signore Reborn.»

He whispered the greeting like a prayer, and cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He hoped the hitman couldn't see it.

«Hm. Good to see you haven't forgotten who I am.»

The living legend tucked away his gun after a moment of inspection, and then sat down. A chameleon crawled down from its perch on his signature fedora and onto Reborn's shoulder, sticking a pink tongue out as if laughing at the bartender's plight.

«I'd like the usual. And make it strong.»

«Ah, uh, b-but…»

Reborn shot him a look that brooked no argument, so he swallowed his words and busied his hands with making a cup of espresso.

 _How did he like it again? Oh, right – the classic black doubleshot._

He turned to his coffee grinder to start a fresh batch of ground coffee, switching the beans for what he knew were the Mafioso's favourite type.

«So, Marco,» the childlike voice began with all the pretence of starting a friendly conversation, «what news do you have?»

«N-n-n-news?»

He cursed himself for letting his fear show, but it was proving difficult not to. After all, the World's Greatest Hitman was talking to him, and from the stories and his own experience, he knew any kind of conversation could only end one out of two ways. And it all depended on the hitman's whims.

Reborn shot him a withering look, and he cringed.

«Right. News. I...I've heard the Vongola famiglia is about two-thirds done with repairs, which was faster than expected. Most likely due to the Vongola Consigliere's(3) hard work.»

He steadied his hands to pack the freshly ground coffee into the doubleshot filter, locked it in place in his prized espresso machine, then placed a cup under the spout and turned the machine on.

«The Serpente famiglia has recently renovated and expanded their headquarters; a testament to their growth, although they're nowhere near close to being as large as the Vongola, or even the Chiavarone famiglia. The Scorpione famiglia have finally settled their dispute with the Pesca famiglia, and are planning another one of their private balls at the end of the month to celebrate.»

He paused when the machine stopped whirring, and he placed the cup on a saucer before setting it in front of the hitman.

He was struck with the sense of déjà vu, remembering the first time he was tested. He'd been a young man shaking in his shoes, praying that the hitman wouldn't kill him on the spot. Now, several years after that memorable encounter, he had a lot more confidence in his barista skills – perhaps even more so than his bartending skills. In retrospect, it was probably the biggest reason why so many Mafiosos started frequenting his little bar during all hours of the night, and over the years, he'd picked up tidbits and rumours of the underworld here and there. It was dangerously thrilling, and he'd had more than his fair share of bar fights and close calls. Even so, he'd gotten used to this new world faster than he thought. Nothing fazed him anymore (apart from surprise visits from the World's Greatest Hitman), and his income was a lot higher than most bartenders get.

But despite his confidence, he still held his breath as the not-child inhaled the aroma, and sipped the scalding hot espresso without changing his expression.

«Hm. Better than before.» It was ridiculous how the barest of compliments could make Marco feel so relieved and proud at the same time, but then again, it came from _Reborn_. «Continue.»

«Right. Of course. Well, the Nuevo famiglia is slowly making a name for themselves; you can hardly tell they're from America anymore if it weren't for the way they dressed. I've always preferred the classic black suit and tie.»

He chanced a grin, and was rewarded with an agreeing nod. But he sobered up to deliver the next piece of news: «As for the Estraneo famiglia, despite fierce opposition on all sides, they are still experimenting with their Possession Bullet. And the rumours saying that they've been experimenting on their own kids have been confirmed – over the past few weeks, the police found several bodies of children that have washed up along different parts of the coastline, mutilated beyond recognition.» He frowned, but kept talking. «The Estraneo are good at erasing evidence, so the police and public haven't caught on yet. But after doing a little digging around of my own, I personally believe it's more than a coincidence.»

As usual, Reborn's black eyes gave nothing away, but from the sudden spike of killer intent, Marco could tell it didn't sit well with him either. Even though he knew it wasn't directed at him, he still fought the urge to run away screaming.

He changed the subject instead.

«That aside, you probably know this already, but the Chiavarone's Don is on his deathbed, though he seems to be hanging on for the sake of his famiglia and his son. Speaking of which…» He gave Reborn a sidelong glance, and decided to throw caution into the wind. «Um, pardon my curiosity Signore Reborn, and feel free not to answer, but…are the rumours true? That you'll be in Italia for a while in order to train Chiavarone Nono's son?»

Said hitman was silent for a while, draining his espresso before pushing the cup and saucer forward to indicate that he wanted more.

«He's a complete greenhorn. The way he is now, even his dying father could beat him in a one-on-one fight.»

Reborn was brutally honest, and Marco cringed for the future Chiavarone Decimo's sake despite never having met the kid.

«I'm going to drag out every ounce of potential he has, though. Or else I won't be the World's Greatest Hitman.»

And then he _smiled_ , and the bartender quickly turned to make another cup of espresso before his frayed nerves exploded into tiny pieces.

He brewed in silence until he set down Reborn's second cup of espresso, then heard a sharp knock on the front door. He looked up, and through the window he could spot the telltale pinstripe fedora atop the world's greatest afro.

«Please excuse me, Signore Reborn.»

The hitman didn't respond, so Marco took the opportunity to go over and open the door for the Don of the Bovino famiglia.

«Buona sera, Signore Bovino.»

The large man acknowledged him with a grunt and a tip of his hat, then passed it along with his coat to Marco so he could hang both on the coat rack.

«Salve, Marco. I trust everything is in order?»

«Si, Signore. Although I hope you won't mind the other customer at the counter. He won't disturb your meeting; I'm sure.»

The man stopped at that, levelling the bartender with a hard glare.

«Marco. I thought we had an understanding.»

«Well, certainly, but…uh...»

His eyes darted back and forth from Reborn's shadowed figure to the Don's darkening expression, unsure of what to say. But the Bovino Nono misinterpreted his hesitance for incompetence, so he stormed over to have a few 'words' with the unwanted customer himself.

«Wait!»

Marco reached out to try to stop him and his shuffling bodyguards, but the Bovino famiglia's stubbornness was just as famous as their ability to manufacture weapons.

«You there. If you don't leave right now, I'm afraid my men will have to remove you forcefully.»

One of the Don's bodyguards cracked his knuckles threateningly, but the black head refused to move. He snorted in derision and began to draw out his pistol, but then he caught the orange ribbon on the fedora. And the curled sideburns. And the green chameleon that was dozing on the child's shoulder.

Bovino Nono backpedalled fast enough to give Marco whiplash, and his eyes widened comically.

« _R-R-R-R-Reborn?!_ The hell is the World's Greatest Hitman doing _here?!_ » The man practically yelled, and Marco winced at the volume.

« _As I was saying_ , Signore Bovino: he won't disturb your meeting. You and your men can follow me to the back door, where I've prepared a more private room in case anything like this happened.»

He quickly and smoothly guided a stunned Don out the door and round the back, while the rest of his small group followed along. They'd heard many stories of the hitman's legendary strength and skills, and started sweating bullets even though the Don hadn't touched the hitman.

The bartender ushered them into the spare room, then pulled out a key and pressed it into the Don's sweaty palm.

«Please, lock the door behind you. If you need anything, pick up the phone and press the 'call' button on the side, and I will assist you in any way I can.»

The larger man looked at the key and breathed out a shaky breath, knowing how close he'd come to writing his own death sentence.

«Thank you, Marco.»

Said man bowed politely, then excused himself to rush back to his more finicky customer.

 _Please please PLEASE let Reborn be in a good mood from all that coffee!_

He opened the door with an apology on his lips, only to see a second toddler perched on the seat next to Reborn's. A toddler in a cow-print onesie.

… _What? Who's that? Reborn's acquaintance?_

The child was chattering about hitmen and world domination, so it was safe to say he was also part of the mafia. But then he accidentally tipped out of his chair somehow and face-planted on the floor.

« _Gyupaa!_ »

The tears pooling in the kid's eyes told Marco this cow was really just a child, and when he drew closer he could now see the kid was a splitting likeness of the Don he'd left in the back room, only much smaller and younger.

 _Ah. This must be Bovino Nono's child. What was his name again? Rambo? Rampo?_

«I, the great Lambo, fell down! My favourite foods are candy and grapes! My dream is to be the Don of the Bovino famiglia and the world's greatest hitman!»

He sweatdropped, then whipped his head around with fearful eyes, wondering if Reborn would kill the baby on the spot. To his relief, he spotted a small bubble blowing in and out of the hitman's nose, even though his eyes were wide open.

 _Oh thank god._

The hitman must've fallen asleep at some point, and probably missed out on Bovino Nono's earlier mistake as well.

He crept over to the kid as quickly and quietly as he could, picking him up and setting him behind the counter.

« _Wah!_ Who are you? Lambo didn't give you permission to touch him!» The child squirmed in his grasp, and he raised an eyebrow at the kid's lack of self-preservation. He quickly shook his head and put a finger to his lips, pointing to the sleeping hitman, but being a child, Lambo couldn't understand and started squirming even harder. « _Leggo!_ »

The toddler's struggling was getting harder to control, so he cast his eyes around to see what he could use to subdue the child. They lit up when he saw the bowl of forgotten grapes he'd intended to eat earlier, and he quickly showed it to Lambo, being careful to keep the bowl just out of the boy's reach.

«Lambo, I have grapes here. Do you want some?»

The boy forgot about struggling and nodded excitedly.

«Okay. But I'll only give them to you if you sit down quietly, and don't move from your spot. Will you promise me?»

Lambo grinned and nodded again, and Marco made him sit on the barstool before handing over the bowl.

At that moment, the small red light on the phone started blinking, and he ducked under the bar's counter so he could pick up the receiver.

«Pronto. Yes, Signore Bovino. I will have cups of coffee for everyone as soon as possible. Would you like any sugar or milk? Alright; I'll put them on the side.»

He took out the leftover coffee grinds, measuring the amount he needed with a practiced eye and placing them in the coffeemaker.

«Excuse me? Oh, Lambo? Don't worry; he's at the counter with me. Should I bring him over?»

He glanced over at the two, resisting a chuckle when he saw that Lambo had started his one-sided conversation again while Reborn continued to doze, evidenced by the sleep bubble and blank eyes.

«What? Oh, no need to worry Signore – the hitman is currently...busy with something else. When you want me to bring Lambo to the back room, just let me know. I can help keep an eye on him while he's here. ...You're very welcome.»

He hung up, and went to work. When the coffee and milk were done, he placed everything he needed on a tray, but before heading to the back room he gave the duo one last glance.

 _Well, Reborn's still sleeping, and Lambo still has a lot of grapes left. They should be fine. I hope._

And with that, he left through the connecting side door, intent on pleasing his most unusual, violent, yet well-paying customers.

* * *

(1): « _Tollerare_ » is Italian for "Tolerate".  
(2): _Fa La Ninna, Fa La Nanna_ is a famous Italian lullaby. Lyrics and translation taken from Mama Lisa's World.  
(3): One of Iemitsu's titles.

AN: You've probably noticed by now, but I'm the type of writer who writes in fragments before putting them together. Sometimes, I end up writing several parts that don't occur until much later on, which means the current chapter often takes longer than usual unless I'm really excited about the particular chapter or scene. But this style of writing is perfect for a story like this where there are many characters doing their own thing.

For the last part of this chapter, I was tempted to write in Reborn or Lambo's POV, but in the end I thought an outsider would be better. He'll probably come back later in the story, but only as a very minor character.

Thank you for all your support and reviews! Stay tuned for more!


	11. Intermezzo: Quattro

AN: I'm proud of this chapter, not because it's unusually good or long or anything, but because it's out despite the fact that my computer crashed last week. And I hadn't backed up my files for a month. So there was a point where I wanted to rage-quit, since I hate rewriting complete paragraphs, but I decided if there's something worth writing the first time then it should be worth writing again. Even though this means some elements have been changed, I actually think it's for the better.

All in all, thank you for your patience. I've learned my lesson in backing up more often. Thank you also for the faves, follows, and reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

 **WARNING:** Mild swearing, and some blood and gore.

Disclaimer: I own not the universe of _Reborn!_

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _Intermezzo: Quattro_

Nowadays, Lavina loved having a cup of hot tea while waiting for her student's arrival, and more often than not, she could predict the exact moment when he'd knock on the door.

This time, she was startled when she didn't hear the cautious tap-tap-tap, but a vigorous pounding of impatience.

«I'm coming!»

She checked who it was through the peephole, and seeing Massimo, she opened the door. But before she could say anything, he thrust a scared Leo into her hands and growled, «Fix him. _Now._ »

She blinked in confusion, then gave Leo a quick once-over in concern. The boy didn't look like he was in pain; he just looked frightened. _And perhaps a little upset?_

She levelled a glare at the older man, consequences be damned.

«I swear to God, Massimo, if he's hurt in _any way_ –»

«What? _No_ ; I didn't mean "fix him" physically. I meant…well, we should continue this inside.»

His eyes darted around as he scowled, looking very uncomfortable.

 _Wow. I don't think I've ever seen him so agitated before._

But her first priority was Leo-kun, so she forced a smile and led them inside.

«Alright Leo. If you wait in the music room while I talk to your cousin–»

«Wait. I need to show you what's wrong first.» Massimo interrupted her again, and before she could voice her indignation at his rudeness, he'd maneouvred the boy to stand in the middle of the living room. «Sing for us, Leo.»

The boy flinched, his expression faltering underneath his grey hat, and when Lavina took a closer look she could see he had the hem of his tattered shirt in a white-knuckled grip.

« _Sing_.»

Massimo's incessant demand showed that he either couldn't see Leo's distress or didn't care, but his tone grated on Lavina's nerves.

Leo responded by opening his mouth, but all that came out were short gasps.

He was one step away from hyperventilating, and Lavina had had enough.

« _STOP._ Just stop.»

Her eyes glinted with steel as she moved to stand between Massimo and Leo, then pointed an authoritative finger to Massimo and flicked it towards the door.

«You. Go outside and cool your head.»

The man gaped at her. «But–»

« _NOW._ »

She saw him grit his teeth, but he managed swallow his pride as he turned and left, although he still slammed the door behind him in a small show of rebellion.

Lavina sighed, but quickly turned and knelt down, rubbing soothing circles on Leo's back.

«Okay Leo. I need you to stay calm, okay? Do the breathing exercises, but slowly. Can you do that for me?»

He was still wide-eyed and gasping, but nodded and tried to time his breathing to match Lavina's.

It took a few minutes, but when Leo finally calmed down enough to lose the panicked edge to his breaths, Lavina set him on the sofa while she pulled up the footstool to sit across from him.

«Now. Can you tell me what's going on?»

She had an idea, but it would be better to hear the full story from Leo himself.

Judging by the way the boy paled and looked frightened all over again, she deduced it wasn't a question he could answer. She sighed.

 _And people say women are complicated._

«Okay. I'm going to say what I think is going on, and you can just nod if I guessed right.»

A pause, then a nod.

«So it seems like you tried to sing in front of other people, but then got scared and your voice got stuck in your throat. Yes?»

An uncomfortable squirm, and an embarrassed nod.

«And it must have happened during an important performance for your cousin to be so upset. I'm assuming he was there too?»

A more miserable nod this time, but Lavina pressed on.

«And you're probably wondering why you can sing in front of me, but not in front of others. Am I right?»

At this Leo shook his head. He knew he was scared, and why, and although Lavina can make another good guess, she knew he wasn't allowed to tell her the exact reason.

«Signorina. I…I know it's because I'm useless.»

She frowned and opened her mouth to refute his depressing statement, but he continued.

«How can I be better, and braver? Please, tell me! _Please!_ »

The boy – still shorter than her even when she was crouching – looked up with desperate eyes. And even though they were brimming with unshed tears, the hazel had burned into a fiery gold: a manifestation of the strength she'd always known he had.

It was quiet strength, but one that had the potential to surpass all others. And she knew right then and there that Leo may not have been the first prodigy she's taught, but he'll certainly be the last – maybe even the magnum opus of her teaching career.

The moment was broken by Leo lowering his head again, but Lavina had seen enough. Her own spirit was rekindled, and though she was determined before, it now became a certainty – he _will_ become great, or she will die trying.

Lavina took a deep breath, steeling herself in the knowledge of what she must do. It would be difficult for him, and while Lavina didn't praise him as often as she usually would (due to the eavesdropper sitting outside), she knew she had to cut it out entirely.

 _«In uno stesso fuoco si purifica l'oro e si consuma la paglia(1),»_ she thought grimly. _But I know he will turn out to be the finest gold._

«Alright, Leo. I will help. But I'm warning you now it won't be easy, and you know that I won't accept anything less than your best. And whatever happens from now on, remember that you're the one who wanted to be better.» He sensed the gravity in her voice and made eye contact again, and Lavina was pleased to see the still-golden eyes full of trust and determination. «There will be things I'll tell you to do that you won't like. It may even make the people around you get mad at you, whether you deserve it or not. Even so, do you still want me to teach you?»

Leo paused for a fraction of a second, but nodded one last time; with emphasis.

«Yes please.»

«Good.» She clapped her hands once, sealing the deal. «First things first – we'll have to fix your stage fright.»

«S…stage fright?»

«Yes. That's the name for what's happening to you. Although I didn't plan on making you perform so soon, your cousin seems to run on a different schedule. But I suppose it's better that we discovered this problem early.»

She paused for a second, then tsked, and went to open the door.

A surprised Massimo stumbled in and almost fell flat on his face.

«Eavesdropping, Signore Massimo? I thought it would be beneath such a man as yourself.»

He rolled his eyes unrepentantly as he straightened himself, but the pink tint across his cheeks and mumbled words betrayed his embarrassment.

«Oh, spare me your excuses. Anyway, you might as well be here to listen to the new homework I have for Leo; to help me make sure he does it.» She didn't wait for a response and turned back to Leo, making sure she had his full attention. «Leo, starting from now, you won't be coming here anymore.»

This statement seemed to stun both boys into speechlessness, so she took the opportunity to elaborate before either one could interrupt.

«While you're not here, I don't want you to practice singing, or do any of your breathing exercises, or anything else that I've taught you about music for the past few months. I don't even want you to touch the notes about music theory I gave you before.»

«Now wait a–you're not–are you _expelling_ him?!»

She ignored Massimo's interjection and continued.

«Instead, I'm going to ask you a question, and when you've come up with an answer, you can come back and tell me. And I want you to come up with your own answer – not your cousin's, not anyone else's, and not one you make up just to make me happy. If at any point I think you're lying, or it's not your answer, I will stop teaching you, no matter what your cousin says. As for _you_ ,» she shot Massimo a dark look, «You're not to threaten him or force him to think of an answer as quickly as possible. I want Leo to take his time; as much time as he needs. And you heard me – if I find that you've been putting words in his mouth, I won't be his teacher anymore. And before you say anything about it being easy to find a replacement for me, I will tell you now that I know I'm one of the best, and that you need me, because you don't have the time or money to switch to another teacher.»

«What–but–you _do_ know what will happen to Leo if you–»

«It doesn't matter.»

There was a blazing aura of authority around the silver-haired woman as the blood of a true teacher pulsed through her veins, giving her a strength neither Massimo or Leo had ever seen before.

«Signore Massimo, whether you wish to believe it or not, all our fates are tied together the moment you stepped in this house. And whether you're willing to admit it or not, I can see that Leo has become just as valuable to you as he is to me. In different ways perhaps, but valuable nonetheless.»

He shot out a hand and grabbed her painfully by the arms, practically growling his anger and frustration at her words, but Lavina didn't budge and looked him straight in the eye.

«You need me. Leo needs me. You need Leo and vice versa, and while I may not need either of you in the same way, I certainly _want_ you two to stay. My life hasn't been this interesting in…well, in a very long time.»

She grinned pathetically, even when the man tightened his vice-like grip so much she could feel his fingers grinding against her bones.

«What? Don't give me that look, Signore. I advise you to have a little more faith in Leo – he's smarter than you give him credit for. And don't worry; the question I want him to answer isn't supposed to be difficult. But trust me – it's very important that he find the answer now, in order to help him overcome his fear of singing in front of others.»

The spark of anger in Massimo's eyes didn't fade as he ground his teeth and spat a few curses at her, but after a few moments he stepped back and released his hold.

«Thank you. Now, Leo.» She turned to her student who looked like he was frozen to the ground, but he gave her a tiny nod to acknowledge that he was listening. «The question is this: Why do you sing? Don't answer me now; I want you to go home and think carefully about the answer. Take as long as you need, no matter what your cousin says.»

She shifted her position to address the both of them. «Also, remember what I said about not singing. Massimo, if you catch him singing to himself or practicing or anything like that, please stop him with a firm verbal reminder. A _verbal_ one, okay?» She stressed this with a hard glare, and he scowled at her. But she took his lack of argument as a positive sign. «Leo, each time you feel like singing, think of the question instead. Why do you sing? Once you have your answer, let your cousin know so he can bring you back here. Do I make myself clear?»

They gave twin nods of apprehension, and Lavina finally quirked a smile.

«Good. And don't stress too much about it, okay? Sometimes forcing yourself only makes things worse. Relax! Enjoy life again!»

Massimo's glare and Leo's silence told her that neither were amused, but she dismissed it with a chuckle.

«Anyway, I've talked long enough. You may head back now. And don't worry about the missed lessons Massimo; I won't charge you for those.»

She walked to the door and showed them out, making sure Leo had his oversized coat on before they braved the cold weather outside.

«Well then, I guess this is goodbye. Or more appropriately, I should say I look forward to seeing you again. Both of you.»

She smiled a genuine smile as they trudged down the snow-dusted stairs, and tried not to notice the way Leo's milky brown eyes lingered on her all the way down until they turned the corner into the alleyway.

She closed the door, and all the fight drained out of Lavina as swiftly as it came as she collapsed into an exhausted heap onto the floor. She blinked heavily as her vision started to double, and wave after wave of dizziness made her want to throw up. Her breath came out in short gasps, but she tried not to panic.

 _C...crap…'nother attack. Calm down…gotta...calm…_

For what felt like decades, she clutched the fabric of her dress as she waited for her symptoms to pass, but eventually her breath evened out again and the nauseous feeling that was stuck in her throat faded away. She opened her eyes and checked – it was already late in the afternoon.

 _I lost…around seven hours. Seven hours?!_ She closed her eyes and rubbed them tiredly, trying to shake out the last of the effects. _Gah. This means I'll have to tell the doctor._

She sighed, knowing she should get up and make an appointment as soon as possible, but took a moment to thank God that her attack hadn't happened while Leo and Massimo were still here. But she also made sure to add a little footnote – a request that she'd be able to see Leo grow into the greatest singer ever.

* * *

 _\- Somewhere in southeastern Italy -_

It was about one minute into the experiment when he realised that they were doing more than just making him fight against every other child that'd been picked for today's second round of experimentation. Sure, they'd done it before – making them fight each other meant the researchers could test any newly acquired abilities, while also serving to erase any sense of companionship between them (although some kids remained unaffected in this aspect). However, this time was different. They'd never given him any weapons before, knowing his red eye gave him enough power to defeat full-grown adults, but this time, after locking him inside the Combat Cage, they threw him a short silver trident that had a long and sharp middle prong with two shorter ones on the side, and ordered him to use it(2). They hadn't taken off his eye patch either, so he assumed that meant he couldn't use his powers. Not that the piece of fabric could stop him (unless it's to use the Fifth Realm), but this was valuable information he kept to himself.

Then they threw in another guinea pig, and armed it with a butterfly knife.

The little piggy – number 156 – was quite pathetic. Even though the researchers had surgically enhanced his leg muscles to triple his speed, Tony was too scared and stupid. His mind could never catch up with his legs, and made him easy to predict.

Tony moved in straight lines from one side of the cage to the other, trying desperately to scratch Mukuro. They'd told him if he failed to show results again, they would relocate him to ballistics.

No experiment ever came back alive from the ballistics department.

As for Mukuro, they'd attached the electric choker to his neck, so with a press of a button he'd be zapped. It wouldn't kill him, but he hated the buzzing feeling of not being in control of his own body.

The fight had been over in less than ten seconds, and despite being the winner, Mukuro was still electrocuted for not using the trident.

Tony had been dragged away unconscious from the blow Mukuro had given to the back of his head, and the dark-haired boy wondered if they'd show some mercy and kill him while he was passed out.

 _Not that I care either way_.

He shook his head to clear the remaining effects of being zapped, and looked up just in time to see the next kid being shoved into the cage.

The fight with number 155 lasted a little longer, as she'd been given a metre-long spear and kept him at a distance, but he finally managed to knock the wind out of her using the blunt end of his weapon. She fell backwards and cracked her head on the blood-stained floor, and didn't move after that.

The onlookers whispered something to each other, then Mukuro found himself getting zapped again after being reprimanded with a «Use the pointy end, 169.»

He gritted his teeth and rode out the electric shock, so by the time his next opponent was pushed in he was already on his feet with the sharp end of the trident pointed towards the other boy.

This time, it was number 153, and he'd been forced to put on a set of…squirrel teeth? He smirked inwardly the first few times the boy tried to swear around his new buckteeth, and while he really didn't have anything against Ken, he didn't want to be electrocuted either.

He swung the trident around a few times, but the cage was large enough to provide plenty of dodging room for the blond boy who was now agile and fast enough to dance circles around Mukuro, especially as he instinctively knew how to hide in Mukuro's blind spot. Occasionally, he'd dart forward to swipe at Mukuro with a tiny set of claws, but he could tell it was all for show as the scratches were barely deep enough to draw blood.

 _Hn. This will be difficult...I think the best thing to do is tire him out._

A few minutes passed, and while he was slowly getting used to his weapon, Ken showed no signs of slowing down. It didn't help that the boy had better reflexes and was much more unpredictable than Tony, despite his repetitive yelling ever since the testing began.

It was easy to tune him out, but he couldn't ignore the growing frowns of the white-coated researchers watching them from their safe spot outside the cage. By now, Mukuro's right arm was tiring and his body was covered with irritating scratches, but he gritted his teeth and lunged for Ken, switching hands at the last second. Instead of holding the middle of the hilt like he did before, he grasped the very end of it and used all the strength in his thin wrist to swing it sideways.

The other boy yelped and sprung backwards in surprise, but he was a fraction too slow as the middle prong of the trident caught the edge of his left cheek and drew a shallow red line across to the other side of his face.

He heard number 159 – Chikusa – cry out in surprise too, but before he could think about what that meant he heard the familiar report of a fired gun and felt the even more familiar pain exploding in his head.

 _Damn it!_ In his surprise, Mukuro's spirit was forced out of his body, and immediately all the pain vanished. But now he was floating above his own collapsed body, and even though the blood coming out from his head couldn't be seen among the same-coloured floor, it still disturbed him to see his body so…helpless.

Ken had fallen on his butt and scrambled backwards, staring in squirrelly horror at the sight of a "dead" body.

 _Oh right. He's never seen them use the Possession Bullet on me before_. But then he did a double take when he took a closer look at the wound he'd inflicted on Ken.

Even though blood dripped in rivulets down his face, it couldn't hide the subtle glow of pale white that seemed to leak out with the blood.

 _What…is_ that _? Ken's aura?_

Mukuro subconsciously reached out a hand to touch it, then suddenly found himself looking at his body from a completely different angle.

He jumped slightly, startled at the change.

 _What? Where am I?_

He quickly glanced around, and noticed that his hair felt lighter and was wearing a bloody white shirt instead of his usual dirt-stained clothes. But most telling of all was the feeling of large buckteeth clicking together in front of his mouth.

 _I…I did it! I've reached the Sixth Realm!_

But he froze when he heard the cage unlock, and saw the researchers and a few bulky security men flooding in to undoubtedly "take notes". They immediately tossed the trident outside, ripped off his eyepatch, and pressed the button to the electric choker a few times, but even though his body's spine arced from the current, his spirit was still inside Ken's body so he didn't feel a thing. What surprised him more was that he couldn't feel anything when a security guard pinned him to the ground, nor when a bald researcher – the bastard that was in charge of most of Mukuro's experiments – pried his mouth open and ripped the squirrel teeth out.

Thankfully, after having simulated the situation several times in his head, he still remembered to struggle and swear, even though it was a bit disturbing to hear Ken's hoarse and nasally voice instead of his own.

His – Ken's – voice was abruptly cut off when the researcher backhanded him and levelled a harsh glare.

«You. Stop pretending. We know you're actually 169.»

He blinked in a split second of panic, before remembering who he currently was and threw back a confused glare.

«What? What the hell you talkin' about?»

He was backhanded again, but it didn't matter because he couldn't feel a thing.

« _I said,_ stop pretending. The trident should have given you enough access to break though the physical barrier, while the fight should have broken the mental barrier. You're number 169, right?» The researcher shook him again, his face getting angrier by the second. « _Right_? I _know_ I'm right!»

The other researchers looked on, while the head researcher – distinguished by the scars that made patches on his face and the fact that he was the only one in a black mafia suit – folded his arms and frowned, interested yet unwilling to waste so much time on a single child.

«If…if you don't tell us the truth, I'll kill you. Your body, that is.» The bastard now had a glint of madness in his eyes as he stood and pressed a foot on his discarded body's neck. Mukuro still couldn't feel anything, but he could see his own bloody face paling even more as its air supply was being cut off. «So. What will it be? Surely, telling us that the Possession Bullet works well with your Six Paths is better than you being trapped in number 153's body forever?»

He could smell the bluff a mile away, but still took time to weigh his options.

 _Hm. What would Ken do in this situation?_

His eyes swiveled to the side, and caught a glimpse of Chikusa's distressed expression through the cage's bars. Well, the stone-faced boy didn't actually move, but somehow he could sense the worry in his indigo eyes.

It gave him the insight he needed, and so he sighed in mock defeat.

«Just do whatever. 'Snot like what I say really matters, right? And I really got no idea what you're goin' on about, but I swear the second I bust outta this place you'll be the first one I kill. So screw you mafia bastards. _Screw you all!_ »

With that final yell, he twisted his head and chomped down on the guard's hand using Ken's human teeth, and even though it was much too savage for his own style, it seemed to be very fitting for Ken. And he had to admit it also gave him a small sense of satisfaction to hear the guard screaming, even as Ken's body shuddered with a fresh beating from the enraged victim.

But sooner than he'd expected, the guard was hauled off Ken's broken body, and the head researcher's scarred face and slanted eyes appeared in his blurring vision.

The expressionless man scrutinised him for a while, then turned to the bald researcher and made a verdict.

«I'm pretty sure it didn't work. Pity.» With that, he turned around and shot the researcher right in the forehead.

The man teetered forward and fell next to Mukuro's body, and as the light faded from his eyes, Mukuro knew it hadn't been a special bullet.

«You and you. Patch number 169 and 153 up so they'll be fit for tomorrow's morning session. Guards, you can take number 159 back to his cell and resume patrol duty. Everyone else is on cleanup and preparation for the next experiment.»

The frantic shuffling of feet told Mukuro it was over, and he carefully controlled himself throughout the process of being carried to the emergency room, being manhandled so Ken's wounds could be treated efficiently, and finally being tossed into Ken's cell.

Number 159 was already waiting inside, but neither of them did or said anything until his escort's footsteps faded away.

Mukuro was still feigning unconsciousness when he heard Chikusa whispering next to him.

«Ken. _Ken._ You okay?»

The slight rustling sound told Mukuro that the other boy was shaking him gently, and so he opened his eyes to tiny slits.

It was almost as dark as when he had his eyes closed, but he could just make out the shape of the other boy's round head and the glint of worry reflecting off his glasses.

Sensing that they were alone, Mukuro finally smiled his victory.

« _Kufufufufufufufufu. Kuhahahaha!_ »

He couldn't help it as he broke out in his long-forgotten laugh, and Chikusa's hand froze on his shoulder.

«…Who…who are you?»

 _Leave it to his cellmate to figure out something's wrong. Well. At least it shows he's smarter than Ken._

«Ah, sorry about that. And we should be quiet, just in case.» He beckoned to the other boy to lean down so they could speak in the smallest of whispers. «I'm Mukuro. Number 169, if that clears things up.»

«M…Mukuro? Wait…didn't they shoot you just now? Don't tell me…you successfully used the Possession Bullet?»

 _Ohh, smarter than I thought._

He nodded, and proceeded to explain the bare details of what had happened from his point of view. Chikusa listened, and even the darkness couldn't hide the growing awe in his eyes.

« _Wow_. That's amazing. But…is Ken okay? I mean, if you're in his body, then…where'd he go?»

«Hm. I hadn't gotten that far yet. But even though I can't sense him right now, I think once I return to my own body he'll be back. When I do, watch carefully, and tell me what happens. As in how long it takes for the original spirit to come back, whether he remembers what happened…things like that.»

Chikusa nodded, relieved that his friend would be back.

«But once you go back to your body, how will I be able to tell you what happened later?»

«Don't worry; I'll figure something out.»

He chuckled again, and to his surprise the other boy smiled with him, breaking the stoic expression that had been caused by too many days of torture.

«Um, Mukuro, before you go…do you think…we have a chance to escape?» Chikusa's voice was even softer than before, as if scared to take back the hope he'd let go of so long ago.

«Idiot. I've been planning this for as long as I can remember.»

With that, he quirked one last smile with Ken's mouth, then closed his eyes and willed his spirit to return to his body.

He was too excited to care about the agonising ring of pain around his throat, and even as Ken's confused swearing filled the silence of their prison, he began to plot a way to get his trident, cut some – or maybe several – researchers or guards with it, and possess his way to freedom.

* * *

 _\- 7 months ago, at the Chiavarone home -_

« _No! I don't wanna go! You can't make me!_ »

A muffled squeak sounded from behind a locked bathroom door, and a baby with black eyes smirked.

«Says the pipsqueak who's going through puberty.» He broke through the vent with a _clang_. «And as long as I'm your home tutor, you'll go to school, whatever your voice sounds like.»

«B-but everyone will laugh at me! And I don't want to become a mafia boss anyway! _OWOWOWOW!_ »

Reborn twisted Dino's arm behind his back, sighing in disappointment at how little it took to incapacitate the Chiavarone heir, broken leg or not.

«You're Chiavarone Nono's only son. Do you honestly believe you have a choice?»

The door flew open and a tall man with glasses burst in.

« _Decimo!_ Decimo, are you…okay…?» He tapered off when he saw the half-naked teen locked in a chokehold by a child in a plumber's costume.

« _Romario!_ Help me!»

«Ah. Signore Reborn. I should have known. I'd heard you were coming to tutor Chiavarone Decimo, but I was on a mission and only came back last night. Welcome to our famiglia.»

«Ciaossu.»

« _What?_ You've gotta be kidding me! Romario, he's doing everything _but_ teaching me right now!»

«…I apologise in advance for the young master. He's, well, he still has a lot to learn. But he _does_ have a good heart.»

«Hm. A trait that would get himself or his famiglia killed.»

« _What? NO!_ »

Dino twisted out of Reborn's grip and heaved himself up on his crutch in one smooth movement, sweat plastering his face but ready to fight despite his handicap. The battle against Squalo had left him hospitalised for a long time, and he couldn't afford to break his mending leg – the last and most severe of his injuries.

«Interesting. You seem to perform about twenty-five percent better whenever one of your famiglia members are around.»

«What are you talking about? I've been tripping a lot because I have this huge cast covering my entire leg!»

«When he's not busy trying to run away, Master Dino is often more capable with one of us around. Unfortunately, we cannot accompany him wherever he goes, especially during school hours. Which will begin in fifteen minutes.»

« _Romario!_ »

«A mafia boss is never late.» He whipped out his gun and shot at Dino, noting the fact that even in a whiny, half-crippled state, the boy could dodge. «Romario. Please bring this greenhorn to school. Unless you'd rather I do it?»

Romario complied, and guided his future boss out the door while dressing and tidying him up at the same time.

The hitman watched them leave, quickly forming a sadistic lesson plan for the boy that would most likely include one Chiavarone babysitter. And perhaps a few lions. Or bears. He'd passed by one when he was strolling through the forest the other day.

 _But first things first: I'll need some decent coffee._

* * *

(1): Translates to "The same fire which purifies gold consumes straw." An Italian proverb taken from St. Augustine.  
(2): Refer to the _Reborn!_ manga chapter 81, page 7. Mukuro's first trident is more like a long dagger.

AN: In the _KHR_ universe, Lavina had a fatal disease, although it was never specified. So I've taken the symptoms from Relapsing-Remitting Multiple Sclerosis (RRMS for short). You'll see why further on.

The next chapter will be quite long, so look forward to it! Feel free to leave a like or review, or keep following to find out what happens.


	12. The Owl (Part I)

AN: Sorry about the late update. I was caught up in reality. But despite all that, thanks for the support. I will keep soldiering on.

WARNING: Swearing.

Disclaimer: As usual.

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _Who'll dig his grave?  
_ " _I," said the owl,  
_ " _With my spade and trowel  
_ _I'll dig his grave."_

* * *

 _Chapter 7: The Owl (part I)_

The cobbled streets were quiet, broken by the occasional desperate scavenger looting empty trashcans or the clunking of debris tossed by the wind. What once could have been called a quaint little town was now riddled with bullet holes and bloody dust, and most of its inhabitants were long gone.

This was where the Estraneo famiglia were located. Most of the underground network knew already, since the Estraneo were once known as quite an average famiglia with a penchant for science and psychology. But the moment information about their latest invention – the Possession Bullet – was leaked, the mafia world was sent into an uproar. Such a weapon would not only ruin all arms dealers, but could also lead to a massive outbreak of spy warfare. Having illusionists and mist flame users were bad enough; adding such a bullet on top would definitely be the grain of sand that tipped the delicate scales of order.

The only reason that prevented the Vindice from stepping in was because the Estraneo hadn't found the solution to the biggest flaw to their invention: almost all their test subjects died after being shot with said bullet before being able to possess someone else. In fact, the first and only successful attempt was done by Estraneo Otto, who'd been assassinated shortly after the information leak.

But despite numerous threats, the Estraneo refused to stop their research, too intent in their pursuit of the perfect merge between science and psychology to care about the death surrounding them.

They fell into infamy, and for the longest time, no one could understand why or how they were still around, especially when the rumours of them experimenting on their own children spread like wildfire among various criminal networks. The Vindice still didn't lift a finger because there weren't any laws in the mafia prohibiting internal strife, but judging by the way other famiglias have upped the bounties on the Estraneo members' heads, torturing children – even if they were Estraneos too – didn't sit well with the Mafiosos who had a shred of humanity left.

Unfortunately, by the time people realised the extent of all they'd done, the Estraneos had holed themselves in their research lab and thrown up defenses more impenetrable than Alcatraz, and every hitman who tried to go in would never come out. They could only pick off members here and there, when they were caught sneaking out of their underground fortress for materials or supplies.

Iemitsu knew all of this, and yet here he was, making his way towards the god-forsaken meeting place that was a few streets next to where the Estraneo's main lab was located. As instructed, he was unarmed and alone, and decked in a nondescript black suit, with a mask and dyed hair to hide his identity. He may know who Estraneo Nono was; he'd even met the man a few times post-Possession Bullet, but he'd do his damndest to make sure no one could recognise him.

Besides, if anyone else saw him, even if they didn't gun him down they'd most certainly report back to their employers, which would in turn mean that Vongola Nono would know.

Ever since calling the Estraneo's Don, he felt like a thick crust of filth had settled over him like a second skin, and not even the hottest or longest of showers would make him feel clean for a long, long time.

 _It's for Tsuna's sake. If Nono or the Vongola can't help, then I have to find help elsewhere._

He chanted the phrase over and over in his mind, and although it helped him focus on the task at hand, it did nothing to remove the guilt churning in his gut ever since he stepped foot into Estraneo territory.

The Estraneo had their own brand of evil, and Iemitsu hoped there was a special kind of hell for them.

Clearing his mind, he pulled the lapels of his jacket closer, checking that his mask was firmly in place before creeping the last few metres to an abandoned pub.

The streetlights had long run out of electricity, but under the light of the moon, he could still make out the broken wooden sign with an image of a pint of beer and the name « _Saluti_ » engraved in depressing irony.

There didn't seem to be anyone around, but Iemitsu knew it would be suicide to stand out in the open, so he stuck to the darkest corner and spread his senses out. If the Estraneos were as intelligent as they were twisted, then he was sure that they'd–

A shadow struck with barely any hint of a killing aura, but it was enough for him to counter with a quick twist of his wrist and body, reversing their positions and pinning his assailant to the crumbling wall.

To the attacker's credit, he didn't struggle or utter a sound except for a slight grunt, and their interlocked position gave both time to size each other up. The stranger was also dressed in black, but unlike the Vongola Lion he was shorter and skinnier; bordering on the unhealthy side by the look in his sunken eyes.

 _Either a desperate bounty hunter or a starved Estraneo. But there's one way to know for sure._

«That's not how you greet a stranger.»

Iemitsu leaned in to whisper the password right next to the man's ear, and with that, he released him and took a cautious step back.

His "greeter" nodded once, then beckoned at Iemitsu before he took off, zigzagging through the labyrinth of alleyways and deteriorating houses. Iemitsu followed at an easy pace, unfazed even when several bullets would whizz by them when they stepped too close to a patch of moonlight.

 _Huh. Probably a few hitmen or bounty hunters looking for easy money._

The Estraneo member continued to weave in and out, dodging the random attacks while also trying to throw off Iemitsu's sense of direction. It wouldn't have worked on the CEDEF leader, but then they took a sharp left and dove down a hidden manhole that led straight to the underground sewage system.

The smell alone could make even the most hardened of people gag, but Iemitsu pressed a hand to his mask and focused on taking short breaths while keeping up with his guide, who was obviously used to the smell. And despite not being out in the open anymore, he still kept up a sprinting pace, looping through several tunnels until Iemitsu was completely lost.

 _Oh well. I'll most likely be able to find my way back, since I'm quite sure this sewer leads to the river. But hopefully I'll never have to make this trip again._

And as they made their way towards their destination, he tried not to think about the human-shaped lumps floating in the sewage, or meeting a type of filth worse than what he's wading through.

* * *

Mukuro's aura drifted down the hallways and phased through walls as thought of the best way to plan his escape. He'd memorised the layout of the entire underground compound long ago, and knew all the Estraneo members' schedules and names, but every plan led back to one crucial point – how to get that trident without anyone knowing.

After that first time, they'd tried the same experiment two more times with the same trident, which he thought was very unusual until he overheard a researcher say that the possession should work because it used to belong to Estraneo Otto, the only one who'd ever used the Possession Bullet successfully. Of course, Mukuro pretended to fail each time, but he might have acted a little too well because now they thought the trident didn't work for him and locked it back up in the weapons vault.

 _At least my acting wasn't a complete waste,_ he thought as he floated by Ken and Chikusa's cell. He'd managed to possess Chikusa once, but it was during his second time in Ken's body that gave him most of the information he needed about his possession ability.

Firstly, he could finally complete and use the Second Realm from his Six Paths technique, which made sense because he could only use another person's abilities when he was possessing them. It made acting a lot easier, and he was excited at the thought of what he could do in a powerful person's body. Secondly, he found that he could move a possessed body as long as it wasn't unconscious or too broken to move, and that even if the body was knocked out, his own spirit would stay until he decided to go back to his own body or jump to another one that he'd cut with the trident before (he'd managed to repossess Chikusa and jump between the two bodies, which was so funny that he had to stop before his laughter or their confusion could alert the guards). Chikusa also told him that Ken's spirit returned after he left the first time, with absolutely no memory of what had happened while he was possessed.

All this information was essential for his escape plan. Ideally, he would somehow cut and possess someone powerful within the Estraneo famiglia, kill everyone, unlock all the doors, kill the person being possessed, then return to his own body so he could walk right out. That was plan A. But even if he didn't get the pleasure of murdering his torturers, he still had to possess someone who could unlock his prison door and sneak his body out without making it look unnatural to the patrolling security guards.

There were a lot of different factors to take into account, but all the different scenarios had to start with a single possession. And for that to happen, he needed his trident.

He doubled back towards the research labs again, hoping to discover something new, but paused when he passed by the office rooms.

One of the doors was open as usual, but the door to the other room was closed.

 _And there's always something behind closed doors._

It was way past midnight, which meant only a few guards patrolling the area and no hurry for his spirit to return to his body, so he slipped into the room to see what was happening while hoping it wouldn't be like the last time he checked behind an unexpectedly closed door.

He was surprised when the first thing he saw was the current head of the Estraneo famiglia seated at one end of the table, with his head of security to his left and the scar-faced head researcher to his right. Two large bodyguards standing behind him completed the set, and they seemed to be waiting for something as Estraneo Nono kept checking his watch with a frown.

Mukuro's aura flickered briefly in excitement – _something big's going to happen!_ – but quickly controlled himself when someone knocked and entered after Nono's terse «Come in.» People didn't seem to be able to sense his presence when he was in spirit mode, but it didn't hurt to be careful.

The first guy that walked in was what they called a «Corridore»; someone whose job was to risk their life scavenging supplies from the surface. Not really a guy worth meeting, let alone worth a private audience with the leader. But he bowed in respect to Nono, then stepped aside and introduced the stranger behind him as «Your guest.»

In all 9 years of his life, Mukuro hadn't seen or heard of any guests setting foot in the Estraneo base. They only had uninvited visitors, and those were killed as soon as possible.

 _Maybe he's someone who helps from the outside?_

The stranger was wearing a black mask complete with sheer black cloth over the eyeholes covered his entire face, and the slicked brown hair made him as unnoticeable as his black suit, shirt, and tie, as if he were dressed to fade into the background. His only outstanding feature was that he was very tall; taller than any adult he's ever seen. That, and the fact that he had absolutely no aura or fighting spirit.

This set off all the alarms in Mukuro's mind, because not even the strongest Estraneo could completely erase their killing intent until they seemed as harmless as this stranger standing at the door. And he didn't think the man would be a simple, ordinary person.

His hunch was doubly confirmed when the two bodyguards suddenly launched an attack, only to be tossed aside with practiced ease and left groaning in unison against the wall.

The Corridore rolled his eyes, muttering «I tried that already. But he's clean – no plastics, metals, or liquids showed on the scanner.»

Estraneo Nono nodded, but didn't bother getting up from the table. «You, take those incompetents away. Send Mezzi and Darin to replace them, but tell them to stand outside the door. Make sure no one disturbs us while we're here.»

The grunt did as commanded, dragging the bodyguards out one at a time before closing the door behind him.

«Now. I know I haven't had guests in a while, but isn't it rude to wear a disguise in front of a potential client?»

It was a clear jab to get the stranger to take off his mask, but to his credit, the man simply ignored the comment and took a seat at the other end of the rectangular table.

«Why you– how _dare_ you disrespect our Don!»

The head of security, who obviously couldn't sit still anymore, whipped out his gun, but Nono disarmed him with a chop of the hand.

«Stop that. While I can protect myself, I'm not sure I can say the same for the two of you.»

«But–»

«Leave it Rus; the man's not as simple as he seems.» The head researcher leaned over and slipped the gun into his own suit jacket, causing Rus to protest in vain. «Besides, I believe Nono is more interested in what he has to offer, not what he has to conceal.»

«Thank you, Vinicio. Also, the fact that he has a disguise means he still has something he wants to protect, no?»

The Don flashed his signature slimy smile, and Mukuro could see the muscles in the stranger's neck tighten.

«Let's just get to business.»

He spoke for the first time, his voice low and gruff.

«A pragmatist, eh? You _do_ know you're dealing with a scientific famiglia that handles more theories than weapons?» The Don made a steeple with his long fingers, his smile growing even more menacing. «Or perhaps that's exactly why you came to us, Signore…?»

«Straniero.»

«Come now; why so distant? And calling yourself a foreigner is just going to make you look more suspicious.»

«Deal with it. Anyway, I'm not here to talk about disguises or fake names. I want to know if the Estraneo famiglia can… _help._ »

It was the first word he spoke with disgust, and it was now clear to Mukuro that the man wasn't here for regular business. He was here because he had nowhere else to go.

«Easy Straniero; you're the one with more to lose here.» But all Estraneos were used to the hatred the mafia had against them, so the Don continued without batting an eye. «So what do you want from us?»

«I'm looking for someone who could have been brought to Italy about ten months ago via human trafficking.»

«Not sure if you know, but we don't deal in human trafficking.»

«No, you don't.» The masked man acknowledged with a slight nod, then leaned forward as his voice took an edge of steel. «What I _do_ know is that you deal in human experimentation. More specifically, child experimentation.»

It was almost funny to see Nono look uncomfortable, even though Mukuro knew it was out of fear, not guilt.

«So what?» Vinicio spoke this time, looking bored as ever. «They're our children. They belong to the Estraneo famiglia, and there's no need to traffic them.»

«Ah, but I also know that you tried to find an external source of human lab rats before being shut out from the mafia world. Surely you still have a way to contact those in the industry? Besides, there's no way a trapped famiglia could survive so long without _some_ outside help.»

The three leaders stayed silent; one fuming, one disinterested, and one thoughtful.

«Alternatively, I _could_ do the world a favour by killing all of you right now, but well. I'm not paid enough to take out the trash, not when it has the potential to turn up some treasure.»

Rus snarled and would have lunged at the man if Nono hadn't started chuckling – a rare sound, judging by Vinicio's startled expression.

«Ha! You don't mince your words, do you? But a word of advice: always make sure your words don't return to bite you in the ass.»

The Don slowly walked over to the guest while drawing a long scalpel out of his inner suit pocket.

«I will admit you're right about still having connections. You see, it takes a lot longer for children to be born than it takes for them to die, while adults are too expensive. And despite being extremely pliable, children also tend to be quite… _delicate._ » He slammed the scalpel into the table, a hair's breath from Straniero's elbow. «So you can imagine my disappointment when my contacts excused themselves when everyone and their mothers started gunning my famiglia down the second any of us entered their crosshairs. They wanted my business, but didn't want to take any risks. Pah!»

He spat to the side in disgust while fisting a hand around the scalpel.

« _Pezzi di merda_ , the lot of them. Some even had the nerve to keep a foot in the door and left me their phone numbers, and I was this close to cutting them off forever. Kids these days. Absolutely no respect for their elders, nor do they have a sense of business. I hope you will not turn out to be like them, Signore Straniero.»

He yanked the scalpel out and patted the man's shoulder in an almost friendly manner, were it not for the shark-like smile on his face.

«So let's talk business. What kind of person are you looking for? Man? Woman? Dead or alive? I can tell you right now that if they've really been taken by traffickers several months ago, you're looking more to the former option.»

«Boy. And alive. I'm quite sure he's still alive, and it's in your best interest to keep it that way.» The man's eyes were hidden, but Mukuro could feel the glare from across the table.

«Oh by all means, make the task even more difficult for us. It _will_ cost you more though. And we are not to be held responsible for any loss or damage of any kind during transportation. You know how rough these kinds of jobs can get.»

«I–»

«Hold on, Nono. He said "boy".» The head researcher cut in, and there was that spark of interest in his eyes that Mukuro would always see just before a new form of torture was used on him or another guinea pig. «You're looking for a _child?_ »

There was a beat of silence, and then the Don roared with laughter.

«HA! Are you crazy?! You're looking for a kid who's possibly been trafficked for almost a _year_ in the Italian underground? You should save us all the trouble and settle for a death certificate!»

Straniero didn't respond, but no one could miss the sudden flare of killer intent.

«A fool's errand,» Vinicio scoffed in agreement. But his gaze sharpened, unfazed by the danger leaking from under the stranger's disguise. «Unless...he's important enough to risk saving. Who _are_ we looking for anyway? A prodigy like the Ranking Prince(1)? A potential heir to a certain famiglia? Or perhaps the President's son?»

«If that's true, how were you dumb enough to lose him in the first place?»

« _That's none of your business._ » The table under Straniero's elbows cracked, leaving a spidery trail on the previously smooth surface. «Besides, you know as well as I do about the Omertà(2), and last time I checked, we're not allies.»

«Oh please. Everyone only brings that up at their own convenience; it's not like it stops people from betraying those closest to them.»

«It's also the only law that's preventing the Vindice from throwing your entire famiglia into Vendicare,» Straniero retorted. «Regardless, it's still none of your damn business, and if you insist on wasting my time, I may as well leave.»

«Okay, okay. So touchy for a Mafioso.»

Estraneo Nono straightened and beckoned to Vinicio, who pulled out a stack of paper from a briefcase under his chair. He caught it as the researcher slid it towards him, then took out a pen and placed both items in front of Straniero.

«First things first – the topmost sheet is a non-disclosure agreement. Wouldn't want other famiglias to catch wind of this, now do we? And I trust you will use your real signature for this, because while I don't know exactly who you are right now, finding out won't take too long, not with all the equipment we have in our labs.»

Mukuro was pretty sure the man was scowling behind the mask, but he skimmed through the first page and signed at the back without much fuss.

«Excellent. Now, the rest of the paperwork details all our other conditions, which are non-negotiable. After you sign that, we can get down to discussing the additional parts we need to add to this contract.»

While Straniero flipped through the pages, Mukuro saw Nono squint at the signature, so he floated over to take a look as well. He could make out the first letter "S", but otherwise the rest was illegible. Apparently it looked real enough for Nono to take out another pen and sign it as well before handing the sheet back to Vinicio to keep.

«What the hell? What's this part about; "while the service is being rendered, the contractor will do their utmost to protect the client and any related parties"? And I'm not comfortable with this part that says "in case of capture and/or death(s), all responsibility will be deferred to the contractor". I'll basically be punished for any mistakes _you_ make.»

Nono raised an eyebrow, but shrugged off the veiled accusation.

«What did you expect when coming to the Estraneo famiglia? I'm a very busy man with all the experiments we do, not to mention having to fend off assassination attempts at any time of the day and night, every day of the year. The only way we'll even have time to help you is if you help us.»

But it was obvious that the stranger was still hesitating to sign this part of the contract, judging by the way his grip on the papers tightened the more he read the fine print.

Nono could see as well, and after checking his watch, he spoke again.

«It seems you need more time to consider. And though I'd love to wait while you take your time to mull it over, there's somewhere else I need to be right now, so I'm afraid we'll have to leave you for the moment.»

Mukuro panicked for a split second before remembering that the ballistics department started the day several hours before his department did. And even though it was unusual for Nono to watch routine experiments being done, Mukuro knew it was part of his duty to stay updated on the latest progress, as he'd seen him attend before during several of his previous out-of-body experiences.

«I'll give you an hour. But don't get any funny ideas while we're gone; you're in our territory, whether you sign the contract or not. Mezzi and Darin are outside as well, and I'm telling you now – for your own sake – that Darin is a flame user like I am.» The Estraneo leader smiled his slimy smile again, then stood up. «Now, if you would excuse us. And I look forward to hearing some good news soon.»

He winked, and left with the other two men in tow.

Normally, Mukuro would have followed them out to scope for weaknesses. But the stranger's coming presented him with the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

Thinking quickly, he cast an illusion of himself within the stranger's mind(3) – one that would directly overlap with his floating spirit. But he tweaked it a little so his facial expression would be more pitiful, just in case this stranger happened to have a soft heart.

He positioned himself to be right in Straniero's peripheral vision, then whispered telepathically.

« _Please, help me_.»

* * *

Six days. Six whole days without uttering a single note, and Tsuna felt like he was slowly being hollowed out.

Without his music lessons, he'd gone back to his usual routine of lessons in the morning with Oni-san, and "lessons" in the afternoon with the three teenagers. But even those felt completely different, because now he wasn't allowed to sing, not even in private.

It wasn't too difficult at first, reverting to his "seen but not heard" state, but as the hours crawled by he realised how empty it was when his time wasn't being filled by something related to music.

He did try to think of an answer to Signorina's question as often as possible, but no matter how long or hard he thought, he couldn't come up with a decent answer. "I sing because I like to" sounded too shallow, while "I sing because I have to" was just asking for trouble. Plus neither answer was true; not the whole truth anyway.

If he'd been asked the same question before his capture, his answer would've been easy – he sang to make his okaa-san happy. And otou-san too, when he was home. But now that neither of them were around…at any rate, it was like digging a hole for a treasure that didn't want to be found.

 _Or maybe it's like the Momotaro story, and I have to fight all the ogres to get their treasure. But unlike Momotaro, I don't have anyone to help me, not even a dog, monkey, or…or a duck? Was it a duck? Or a chicken?_

He bit his lip, unconsciously curling a hand around the 5-yen coin that was usually tucked under his shirt. He'd thought about tossing it near a church as thanks after Kami-sama answered his prayer, but every time he forgot something about his past home, the coin was the only thing keeping him from having a panic attack.

There were little things here and there – such as having nightmares in Italian, or forgetting certain names in Japanese – that made him feel as if a hole was growing inside him. He'd already lost too much, and now it seemed like he could lose music on top of that.

« _STUUUPID BLONDIEEEE! WHERE AAARRE YOUUU? THE GREAT LAMBO HAS COME TO PLAAAAAY!_ »

The shrill voice interrupted Tsuna's downward spiral of thoughts, and he quickly scrambled towards the front gate. Since he wasn't allowed to do any stamina training either (Oni-san said it counted as a "breathing exercise"), he'd been wondering what to tell the cow kid when they next met. And it was Sunday already.

« _BLONDIEEEEE!_ »

« _Shhhhh!_ I'm here.» He quickly scanned his surroundings before dashing the last few metres from the side door to the gate, hoping the teens had somewhere else to be.

«Yay! Come on, let's play!» Lambo stuck a paw through the iron bars and tugged on Tsuna's sleeve.

«Lambo, I can't. Not today.»

That made the child pause, but then he grinned his usual "I-don't-care-what-you're-saying-'cause-I'm-the-great-Lambo" grin.

«Awww, Fratello's being shy again. It's okay; I permit you to be in my presence today! Oh, and I also have a cool new weapon to show you and the other three stupid boys! I borrowed it from the Bovino Don to help me in my new mission!» Lambo's eyes sparkled as he rummaged his other hand through his massive hair-storage space.

«No, Lambo! I…I'm not allowed to play today. You should go home.»

«Where is it? Lambo knows he took it with him today...»

« _Lambo!_ »

«Well well, now here's a rare opportunity.»

Tsuna's head whipped around, but it was too late as he was suddenly yanked up by the back of his shirt.

«Boss, I got the other brat!»

Even while choking, Tsuna could see that Enzo had grabbed Lambo's wrist that was stuck through the bars, trapping the kid there.

« _Ah!_ Leggo stupid no-eyes!»

«How about no. Rossi, you done with the lock yet?»

«Hold on…there. And we should bounce before Maso comes.»

«W-w-wait! Th-there's no training today; Signore Maso said so! So leave Lambo alone!»

«Don't care. Anyway, since we have the day off, we're gonna have some _fun_. So whaddya say, little Lambo? Shall we play?»

Paulo grinned, changing his grip on Tsuna so that the struggling boy was firmly locked in the crook of his arm.

«Hey; stupid Paulo is cheating! That's not how you play – gah! Lemme go!»

«Got him, boss. And Enzo, you can be on lookout this time.» Rossi had slipped through the opened gate and held Lambo in a death grip, making sure the kid couldn't touch his hair or pull out anything that would distract them.

 _Crap. I shouldn't have let my guard down._ They had a chance of escaping if only one of them was caught, but it'd been so long since both of them were trapped like this that Tsuna could only panic and struggle, which made Paulo smirk.

«Wait Enzo. We're not going to the café today. Let's go to the other back alley; the one by the empty apartment.»

«Yes boss.»

And with that, Tsuna knew they were in for a world of pain.

* * *

 _Why did I think they wouldn't come for me even after Oni-san said we had the day off this Sunday? Stupid, stupid, no-good Tsuna._

It was bad enough, being hammered into the dirty walls and dusty ground. It was even worse when they dumped Lambo right next to him, and started hitting the child with enough force to draw blood. It was absolutely humiliating when he tried several times to shield Lambo, and was easily stopped each time by a single punch or kick. But he almost lost it when Lambo started wailing his name. Not "Stupid blondie" or "Fratello", but "Leo".

 _I…I'm going to lose him too. And it's gonna be my fault._

A particularly hard kick made Tsuna cough up something wet, but he felt too empty to care.

 _It'd be better anyway if I had nothing left. It'd be easier to give up. It'd be…better…_

But even as those words rang hollow, he curled into himself more, wrapping his arms around his ears and head, hoping to block out everything.

« _Dude…break. Remember…stay away …face._ »

« _…yeah. Enzo, any sign…? Or Maso?_ »

« _Nope. How's…cow?_ »

« _Still…crying._ »

« _Leave Leo alone!_ _Stupid...stupid...WAAHHHHH!_ »

And wasn't that like a stab through Tsuna's heart.

 _Does it count as doing the right thing, even when I can't? Even when I'm useless and end up not helping anyone?_

The kicking started again, and Tsuna instinctively knew that this time, they weren't going to stop.

« _NNOOOOOOOOO!_ »

Something in Lambo's voice made the kicks pause, and Tsuna cracked an eye open just in time to see something long and purple flash by.

«Rossi! Stop him!»

A flash and a bang rang out, and everyone coughed from the smoke that billowed out.

 _What…?_

«Phew. I was expecting it, but not so soon after the first time. Question is, where am I?»

A deeper, more mature voice came from the smoke, and as it cleared away, Tsuna saw a cool-looking teenager with messy black hair and one closed eye emerge from the spot right next to him.

«What the…who're you? Where'd you come from?»

«Ah, it's the Todd famiglia's Don. Still a jerk as always. And your usual henchmen are here too.»

The boy straightened from his relaxed posture, brushing off the dust that had settled on his black suit jacket with spotted lapels.

« _Hey!_ Who're you calling a jerk? And where'd the dumb cow kid go?»

«I'm afraid that's none of your business.» He smiled, but then faltered. «Wait. If you're here, and my past self was also here, then that means…» He whipped around and caught Tsuna's eye.

Something in the boy's expression hardened to ice, and Tsuna flinched reflexively.

«You're really lucky.» He turned to speak to the others again, but this time there was nothing easy-going about his voice. And his one open eye never left Tsuna. «My Fratello forbade me a while ago to destroy your famiglia, so I won't kill you. But I sure as hell can make you pay.»

«What? What the f-ck does that mea–?»

Paulo's words were lost as green lightning charged the atmosphere, and the stranger proceeded to give the other boys a thorough thrashing.

Tsuna shielded his eyes from the bright light, whimpering and praying that it would stop soon.

After a few moments, the sound of screaming boys and the buzzing of electricity faded, but he didn't dare look until he felt two hands clamp down on his shoulders and shake him frantically.

«Tsuna-ni! Are you okay? Crap, maybe I should call the doctor–»

«N-n-no. I-I'm okay. Please, d-don't hurt me.»

Thankfully, the shaking stopped, but now the stranger looked...sad?

«Ah. Sorry. But you know I'd never hurt you, right?»

«U-umm. B-but…who are you?»

The stranger blinked in confusion, then quirked an almost shy smile.

«Oh! Of course you wouldn't know... It's me, Lambo. From ten years into the future.»

«W-what?»

«This weapon here,» he pointed to the forgotten purple tube, «is called the Ten-Year Bazooka. Whoever gets shot with it gets sent ten years forward, while they're replaced by their future self. So I'm still Lambo, but I'm the fourteen-year-old version.»

«…Oh.»

However strange it sounded, Tsuna felt that this guy – Future Lambo – was telling the truth. And if he looked closely, he could see the same horns sticking out of the black hair, and what he thought was a spotted pattern on the teen's jacket was actually Lambo's signature cow-print pattern. The most telling was the one open eye, which was as green as the younger Lambo's. Maybe not so sparkling and innocent, but still bright and kind.

He relaxed a little in Future Lambo's supporting hands, but then sat up again, hissing a little at the pain that flared up.

«But…if you're here…is the other Lambo coming back? Is he okay? H-he was hurt, too!»

«Ah, careful! You're gonna hurt yourself more!» The teen eased him against the wall, fussing over his wounds like his okaa-san used to. «Typical Tsuna-ni. Always worried about everyone but yourself. The bazooka only works for five minutes anyway, and I think time's almost up, so you'll see my younger self when we switch back.»

«Oh. Good.» Then something occurred to him. «Wait. Did you call me 'Tsuna-ni'?»

«Well, I don't think you liked the other nicknames we came up with.»

That opened up a whole other can of questions, but before Tsuna could voice them, Lambo frowned, then looked at him with a seriousness that he'd never thought Lambo would ever have.

«Tsuna-ni. Lambo will have to leave you soon. It will be difficult, but I know that you're strong; stronger than anyone I know. I promise you everything's going to be okay, so please, hold on for me. For all of us.»

Then, being careful with his wounds, Lambo gave him a warm hug, and hummed « _Cresci fratello, ritornerai, libererai tutti noi(4)_ » before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

In his place was the four-year-old Lambo again, who took one look at Tsuna before burying his face in the crook of his neck and bawling his eyes out.

It was impossible to say anything to the current Lambo, so Tsuna held him close and waited it out.

 _I…I could have lost Lambo today. M-my first friend. But thank god, he seems to be okay – both the younger and older version of him._

He couldn't quite make heads or tails of exactly what Future Lambo was trying to tell him in the end, but he realised with some surprise that the draining emptiness he'd been feeling was gone.

At that moment, Lambo hiccupped a few times, signaling that his crying fit was over.

«S-s-stupid Leo! Making me worry like that! Where did you go? Lambo couldn't find you anywhere and was surrounded by s-scary people! Even though they had candy.»

He sweatdropped. _Lambo probably didn't realise he'd been sent to the future._ But it seemed like the "scary people" knew what was going on, since the child was properly bandaged and looked better off than he did just a few minutes ago. _Maybe…maybe he met some future friends?_

It was more than he dared to hope for, but he still smiled and patted Lambo's fuzzy head.

«Humph. And I was hoping to show off my new weapon, too.» The child spotted his bazooka, and promptly stuffed it back into his hair. «Oh well. The great Lambo will show you how it's used next time, after I kill the super first-class hitman, Reborn.»

Tsuna blinked.

«Wait, what?»

«Oh. Didn't Lambo tell you? The boss said Lambo doesn't have to kill stupid Paulo anymore 'cause he's too weak. My next target is Reborn, who I met in a bar.» The kid tilted his head to the side and rubbed his chin, as if in deep thought. «Hmmm…I guess this means you won't see me until I finish my mission. Ah, but don't worry – Lambo will try to do it as fast as he can! Then I'll come find you and we can play together again!»

«B-but what if you get hurt? Or lost? Or–»

«Stuuupid. Who do you think you're talking to? I'm the great Lambo, and I won't stop until I've become the next boss of the Bovino famiglia! Gyahahahaha!»

Lambo's pose of confidence seemed completely out of place in this situation, but Tsuna sighed and settled for the fact that he knew Lambo would still be around ten years later. Also, judging by how openly the teen used his real name, it seemed they would meet again sometime in the future.

 _So I guess I'll just have to take older Lambo's advice and «hold on.» But for now,_ he thought while struggling to his feet, _I've found my answer to Signorina's question._

* * *

« _Please, help me._ »

Since the start of the private meeting, Iemitsu had sensed another presence in the room with them, so he wasn't startled at the illusion, but he did think it was surprising to see a blue-haired child pop out of nowhere.

He kept his poker face though, and inclined his head to acknowledge the presence.

« _Ah, please don't put up all your mental barriers. We can only talk if you allow me to manipulate the language centre of your brain. And if you want, you can shut off the visual part too. I just thought it would be easier if you could see who you were talking to._ »

He'd met and interacted with Mist flame users before, so knew how to deal with them, but it seemed as if this particular user really was just a child if he could sense and block off his illusions so easily. So he kept the specific barriers open without lowering his guard.

 _If you show me any illusions other than yourself, I'll cut you off immediately._

« _Of course. After all, I'm the one asking for your help._ » The illusion flickered, then reappeared as a mini-version standing between Iemitsu's face and the stack of papers he was reading. « _There's a security camera in this room, so it'd be better if it looks like you're reading the contract._ »

 _Hm_.

Iemitsu silently approved of the child's actions, a little impressed at his intelligence and resourcefulness. And he was quite a pitiable child, with a solemn face, a malnourished body, and an eyepatch over his right eye.

It made him wonder if somewhere, his Tsuna was becoming like this.

He quashed the feeling of dread, and spoke in his mind with a neutral tone.

 _So? Who are you? And no lies; I've heard enough of them to sense when someone's not telling the truth._

« _I…I'm Mukuro._ » The figure in front of him looked down, as if ashamed. « _I'm one of the children they experiment on._ »

Iemitsu's grip tightened enough to crease the contract he was "reading", but he slowly flipped the page in a semblance of control.

 _Oh? And what do you want from me?_

The boy looked up at him, this time with a determined expression.

« _I want to escape this hellhole, preferably in one piece. I_ do _have a plan, but I can't carry it out without a certain weapon. So I was thinking you could get it for me._ »

 _Woah there, I'm not looking to start a war with the Estraneo famiglia. Plus I happen to need their services. You should know; you were right there eavesdropping on us._

« _Huh?_ » The boy looked genuinely nervous for the first time. « _How…how did you know?_ »

 _I'm pretty good at sensing things. Call it instinct or whatever. And no need to worry; I doubt anyone else has discovered your aura._

« _Oh. Does that mean…I knew it; you're a stronger Mafioso than the head of the Estraneo famiglia!_ »

 _Maybe I've just had more experience._ He was deliberately vague as didn't want to give too much away to the unusually perceptive child. _I've come across others like you, but you're definitely the youngest out of all of them. Is this a result of all the experiments you've been through?_

« _…I'd rather not talk about that._ »

Mukuro was just as reluctant to give away too much, but that was fine with him. The boy must be quite desperate to reach out to a complete stranger, no matter how strong he looked.

« _Anyway, if you choose to help me, I think I can help you find who you're looking for faster than anyone in the Estraneo famiglia._ »

This piqued Iemitsu's interest, but he kept his enthusiasm in check.

 _Really? And how would you go about doing that?_

« _If you lend me a picture and something that belongs to him, I can use it to establish a dream link. It's a little like what I'm doing now, but it only works if I have both items in my hand. Also, it may be obvious but we both have to be asleep._ »

… _That can be arranged._

It seemed easy; almost too easy, as if the answer to his biggest problem had just fallen straight into his lap. There had to be a catch somewhere.

 _What do I have to do again? Steal a certain weapon for you?_ Something occurred to Iemitsu, and he frowned. _Is it the Possession Bullet?_

« _No. I'm actually looking for a small trident. If I may show you what it looks like…?_ »

He nodded discreetly, and the weapon materialised in front of him.

He blinked in recognition.

 _This…this is Estraneo Otto's personal weapon. Or used to be. Why do you need it?_

«… _No comment. How did you know that this belonged to the previous leader?_ »

… _No comment._

There was a tense silence between them, which was only broken when Iemitsu finally flipped to the last page of the Estraneo's contract.

 _You know, you could've just directly asked me to help you break out of wherever you're imprisoned. If it means finding the person I'm looking for, I'd be willing to do that much._

The boy gave him a calculating look, then spoke with the most eerie smile he'd ever seen on a child's face:

« _There's no fun in escaping without a little revenge._ »

 _Revenge? In what way?_

« _You don't need to know. Besides, this way, you can minimise your involvement with the Estraneo famiglia. Maybe even watch them suffer a little without having to lift a finger. And I know how much you like them._ »

Iemitsu weighed his options, his alternative options, possible worst-case scenarios and necessary contingency plans, then reweighed everything again in the span of a few seconds.

« _So what will it be, Signore Straniero?_ »

He picked up the pen Estraneo Nono had left behind, signed the contract, then leaned back and crossed his arms in an affectation of boredom.

 _Tell me this plan of yours._

* * *

(1): Ranking Prince Fuuta is currently 5 years old.  
(2): The Vow of Silence for people in the mafia. Basically it's an oath to stay silent when questioned by the police, and also to stay away from interfering with another famiglia's illegal activities (unless such activities negatively affect your own).  
(3): According to canon, Mukuro can cast 2 types of illusions – the first type manipulates the victim's mind into believing that what they're seeing is real, while the second is actually making the illusion real via Mist flames, which was first shown during the Future arc. He's still a kid here, so he can only do the first type for now.  
(4): Translates to "Grow up brother, you shall return, you will free us all." Lyrics from the Italian version of _Deliver Us_. Refer to Chapter 5: The Goose.

AN: There was a lot of research I had to do for this chapter. It's turning out to be a longer story than I'd anticipated, especially when the characters take off by themselves. But I'm still having fun, so I hope you're enjoying it too. I also somehow managed to make some of my least favourite characters more likeable (to myself anyway). I guess these things happen when you write about a character instead of just read about them.

Part II will come out next. I just couldn't justify putting everything into a single long chapter. Anyway, feel free to review, follow, favourite, etc. I always look forward to your responses. :)


	13. The Owl (Part II)

AN: If I could have any superpower, it would be that time would stop whenever I write. But this is wishful thinking on my part.

Regardless, apologies for the lateness of this update. And the disclaimer is up as always.

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _Chapter 7: The Owl (part II)_

\- 2 _nights later_ -

It was laughably easy for Iemitsu to sneak back into the Estraneo base, and even easier to locate and retrieve the trident the kid had asked for. Then again, a big part of his success was due to Mukuro showing him the layout of their base, and giving him the codes he needed to unlock certain doors. The kid had a monstrous talent; one that made the CEDEF leader consider recruiting him somewhere down the line despite his hesitation in hiring an Estraneo (albeit an Estraneo victim).

 _The boy's useful, but while his practical abilities are sound, I'm not sure that whatever torture the Estraneo put him through hasn't warped his psyche beyond help._

The masked man was currently crouched in the shadow of a crumbling house on the outskirts of town, far enough away from the Estraneo base to make an easy escape, but not so far that he would miss the kid coming out from planned exits A, B, and C.

If things _were_ going according to plan, Iemitsu estimated that Mukuro would've retrieved the trident by now. He'd hidden the weapon in what he assumed was a test lab/torture chamber, and the smell, coupled with glimpses of that room in the dark, were more than enough to make the hardened Mafioso gag. He was no stranger to the idea or even the experience of torture (and this was both on the giving and receiving end), but the idea of what the Estraneo were doing to _children_ …

He forced himself to relax, refocusing on the possible exits and half-expecting to hear a couple of muffled explosions, or at the very least some heavy gunfire. But even though he strained his ears to pick up even the tiniest of hints of the revenge-justice being doled out by one blue-haired boy, everything stayed eerily still and quiet.

Minutes passed. Then hours. And just when he was thinking about going in and performing his own justice-rescue operation, he saw the scraping of metal on concrete, and a small hand grasping a trident poked out of manhole B.

He flashed over, giving the hand his own and hauling out Mukuro and two other bloodied boys before carrying all three to the safety of his designated shadow.

From a cursory glance, despite their torn and dirty clothes, he could tell they were pretty much uninjured, so the blood must have come from the Estraneo members. Mukuro's eyepatch had also come off at one point, and they were all too small and too young; too tired to utter a sound, so Iemitsu gave them some space and time to recover, even though he needed an update of the situation.

« _W…who the hell're you?_ »

It was the messy-haired boy who spoke up first, panting and glaring warily at the stranger. And judging by the slight shift in expression from the other boy he didn't know, they both had the same question.

 _Huh. Seems like Mukuro didn't let these other boys in on our plan._

« _Kufufu_. Don't worry, 153 – Signore Straniero is our outside help.» And judging by the freakishly genuine smile on Mukuro's face, Iemitsu guessed that everything in the Estraneo base had been taken care of by these three kids, which he had to admit was actually quite an impressive feat.

As they were in no immediate danger, Iemitsu simply nodded a response, and wondered what he should do with the two unexpected rescues. He'd already decided to cooperate with Mukuro, at least until Tsuna was found, but his plan hadn't included anyone else. While there was little to no chance of them ratting him out or even recognising who he was, he honestly had no desire or time to babysit the kids, especially ones who needed a lifetime's worth of therapy.

But as the extras relaxed, he could tell that Mukuro was the unofficial "leader" of this rag-tag team, so he sighed and decided that if the child illusionist couldn't leave them behind, then he wouldn't be able to either, not without giving up on their deal.

«So? Ready to hold up your end, kid? Or should we head to a safer place first?»

Mukuro huffed at being called a kid, but didn't say anything in favour of scouting their surroundings. «Hn. No; here's fine.» He took a few moments to shake off the last of his exhaustion from running, then stood and held out his cleaner hand. «Pass me the picture and object.»

Iemitsu obliged, taking out a shoelace and a printed picture of Tsuna from his pocket. It was a photo from his sixth birthday that Nana managed to snap just before he blew out the candles, although Iemitsu edited out everything in the background so the boy's true identity couldn't be traced.

«So, how does this work? Do I have to wait for you to fall asleep?» He tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice, but it was difficult as Mukuro only gave him the barest of information on how his unique tracking ability worked. While he knew the kid wasn't lying about his abilities (a combination of instincts, experience, and his sky flames told him so), it would turn out quite badly for him if Mukuro himself believed in a lie.

The kid simply rolled his eyes at his doubt and snatched up the proffered items, giving the picture a good twice-over in the glow of moonlight.

«This will do. As for the 'falling asleep' part, I recommend you knock me out – _gently_ – then give me about half an hour to search before you shake me awake again, unless I manage to wake up by myself before that. And you two,» he shot a look to his companions, «watch out for me.» They nodded in deference, taking everything in stride.

«Alright. Tell me when you're ready.»

He watched as the boy gave the picture one last glance before curling both the shoelace and picture in his hand. The trident never left his other hand either, but Iemitsu just figured it was him being wary of adults. Years of torture would do that do a person, plus they were still practically strangers, even though they were accomplices.

He glanced at the other two silent boys who looked a little nervous, but still held themselves together despite their ordeal. So he held up his hand, and struck Mukuro's neck with pinpoint accuracy.

 _Please_ , he prayed even as he carefully lowered the unconscious boy to the ground, _please find him._

* * *

 _Dream-walking was one of the very first skills that was spliced into Mukuro's brain, and his first successful use of it was at the tender age of four. However, the researchers quickly discovered that the ability was quite useless, as it only worked on people who had an open mind._

 _Meaning: he could only dream-walk into a child's subconscious. This didn't include mafia children as most had training on how to conjure a basic mental block, right after being taught about the different types of flames. The dream world was also very finicky as literally_ anything _could happen, and while Mukuro thrived in chaos, he found it much more difficult to navigate through crazy._

 _On top of all this, his entire future hinged on what he could discover through "helping" the masked stranger. He'd already planned several possible scenarios and what action to take depending, but he'd lived long enough to know things sometimes don't go according to his plans._

 _The small tingle of fear he felt suddenly materialised into a screeching demon trying to claw through the ever-present prison bars of his dream space, and he flinched backwards into the yawning darkness. That was another thing about being in the subconscious world – here, a person's soul was reflected in the way they felt it the most, which meant things could easily spiral out of control if he lost focus on what he needed to do. It was a double-edged sword: he could see another's very essence and deepest desires while dream-walking, but at the same time he had to wade through his own._

 _It was a different kind of hell that reflected the truth and stripped him bare in the most painful of ways, and he never got a good night's rest throughout the entire experimentation process of what he preferred to call "Nightmare-walking"._

 _Now wasn't the time to overthink it though, so he took a deep breath, and gradually shut out his own subconscious in favour of finding another's._

 _The picture of a brown-haired boy with matching eyes, chubby and innocent in a way Mukuro would scorn appeared, and at the same time he materialised the shoelace in his bloodied hands (a small consequence from the slaughter that had taken place earlier, but he wore it like a prize). Channelling some of his energy into the string, he made it loop through the picture several times before allowing it to extend outwards, a glowing streak of orange light in the murky darkness of the subconscious world._

 _Guess this means the owner's asleep too. How fortunate._

 _Mukuro quickly followed in the same direction, keeping pace until he reached an open door. Strangely enough, as he approached, he could hear a faint song wafting through, but even though he was curious, he was still cautious, and peered through to see what he could see before the boy would be alerted to his intrusion._

 _The walls of the room were quite barren; a step up from his own pathetic prison cell but still dank and fraying at the seams. The only unusual objects were the grand piano that took up most of the space in the middle of the room, and a small mattress with a few toys on it that occasionally flickered in and out of existence. The floor was also an ocean of bottomless water, currently swirling in time with the song that was filtering out from the piano._

 _The owner himself was curled on top of the floating instrument with a metallic disc around his waist (the grooves on the disc made Mukuro think of a gigantic coin, but he's never seen a coin that had a square-shaped hole in the middle), breathing in time with the music._

 _The scene was a little unexpected, but since the door to his subconscious was open, Mukuro had a chance to weasel some valuable information from him._

 _With a thought, he floated over and nudged the boy with a foot._

 _«Oi.»_

 _The boy startled badly enough to fall spluttering into the water, but he managed to grab the ledge of the rocking piano while the metal disc acted like a floatation device._

"HIIEEEE! _W-what? Who?"_

 _«Fufufu. What an interesting reaction.»_ _He hovered around before settling in a relaxed sitting pose, giving the boy a closer look with his dichotomous eyes. He seemed absolutely harmless and vulnerable, but Mukuro knew he still needed to pretend to be kind, as he was in someone else's subconscious and could be kicked out the second the owner wished to do so. «What's your name?»_

 _Brown eyes widened to scared saucers before ducking behind the safety of his flattened wet hair._

 _«U-uhm, I'm sorry.» The boy's voice was barely above a whisper, and the soothing song that was playing in the background faded into silence. «I'm not supposed to answer a stranger's questions.»_

 _«Oh? Says who?»_

 _A stone tablet with a list of rules poofed into existence as an answer, and he skimmed over them. Interestingly enough, while most of the words were in Italian, a few looked more like strange alien scribbles, which must be a different language. Pity he couldn't read them as they seemed to reveal the names of the people who held him captive._

 _Must mean my target can speak more than one language, he mused to himself. But he scoffed out loud after getting the gist of this boy's "rules" – the adult or adults who established them must be control freaks. Either that or the boy was even more of a pushover than he thought possible._

 _How boring._

 _He leaned closer to the boy, wanting to discover why Signore Straniero was interested in him. Was this all there is to this boy?_

 _«Ummm…who…who are you?»_

 _The weakling's curiosity seemed to have temporarily won over his timidity, and Mukuro gave his signature smirk._

 _«You won't tell me who you are, so why should I tell you who I am, hmm?»_

 _«Oh. Right.»_

 _The boy splashed around for a bit before managing to haul himself back onto the piano, then peered up at him with puppy eyes that were innocent yet piercing enough to make Mukuro's skin crawl._

 _«You…you're like me, aren't you?»_

 _The older boy blinked at the strange question._

 _«What do you mean?»_

 _He looked down at himself, wondering if his subconscious self would appear different inside someone else's subconscious. He knew that he could channel some of his illusionist powers, and he was never above scaring the wits out of other children back when he was still experimenting with his skills, but the illusions were much harder to control as they depended heavily on his own mood and feelings._

 _«Ah; not on the outside. It's more like…you_ feel _the same as me._ »

 _Golden eyes searched his, and Mukuro shifted uncomfortably as the air bloomed an unnatural warmth._

«… _Lonely, maybe…?»_ _He spoke the word like a harmless afterthought, but something in his tone was so matter-of-fact; so understanding, that it made Mukuro sneer (in disgust/fear/longing/_ hope _?)._

 _He shot out an arm and grabbed the boy by the front of his shirt, and everything but the boy instantly dissolved into a tangible darkness that threatened to suffocate them both. Bruises sprang out of nowhere over the weakling's face and arms as if recalling a close memory, but even though he struggled in his grip, his eyes never left his, burning impossibly brighter in the sudden gloom._

 _«Kufufu. What an interesting thing you're saying. But tell me, whatever gave you_ that _impression?» he ground out with a wicked smile, eyes flashing dangerously. He knew his emotions were going haywire – another downside to dream-walking – and there was no way to control them now, no matter how much his rationale was screaming at him to get a hold of himself._

 _«It's just a feeling. Mostly because of your eyes, I think…?» The brunette tilted his head and clasped a hand around the wrist holding him up, which almost startled Mukuro into dropping him. «I think they're pretty, by the way. Like soft jewels.»_

«WHAT?»

 _«Huh?»_

 _Before he could think, Mukuro threw the boy as far as he could for…for his insolence? For pitying him? There were way too many emotions the emotionally-stilted boy could handle at one time, so he chose the most pragmatic option – to run._

 _In the next blink, he was back in his familiar prison cell and jarring darkness; a reflection of his agitation. Never in his life had he ever been so put off by another, and a boy several years younger than him at that._

 _He shuddered involuntarily, taking deep breaths and forcing himself to calm down in the safety of his own subconscious._

 _Hm…this could prove to be more annoying than I first thought._

 _But one thing he knows for sure is that there was no way he could let the masked Mafioso know that he'd failed to get any information in terms of where the boy was being held, and even if he did, he would've done everything to prevent the two from meeting. The boy was more of a mystery than he'd bargained for, and the opportunity and hidden potential was too tempting to pass on to someone else – especially not to someone in the hated mafia._

 _While the boy clearly isn't part of the mafia, maybe I could find and possess him for myself one day. But first things first – I need to figure out how to deal with the situation waiting for me outside._

* * *

About five minutes before time was up, the blue-haired kid blinked awake, and Iemitsu almost jumped on him out of anticipation.

«So? Did you see him? Do you know where he is?»

«I've made contact, but there were…complications.» The uncomfortable look marring the boy's features told the Mafioso that he wasn't lying, and his heart dropped. «But I'm pretty sure I'll be successful on my next try. I just need to be in a better position.»

Mukuro pointed a thin finger to an area behind Iemitsu's head, and he turned to look. It was a taller building, which was no small feat considering its dishevelled state, and he eyed it skeptically.

«We have to be quick though; you're lucky I caught your target sleeping, and I don't know when the next opportunity will be.»

He sighed internally, but knew there was really no option left, what with the Estraneo famiglia being out of commission (although he was secretly glad he didn't have to deal with their kind anymore) and his own refusing to lend a hand.

«Alright. Do you need help, or…?»

The other two kids cut in at that point, helping their leader to his feet.

They stuck to the shadows while quickly making their way through the taller pile of rubble, with Iemitsu bringing up the rear and keeping a constant eye on their surroundings. It was still surprisingly quiet, although that could be due to the fact that he had dispatched a few bounty hunters earlier while Mukuro was unconscious.

It'd been difficult for the normally passionate man to sit still for so long, but for the sake of his family, he'd wait to the ends of the earth.

They settled on a corner of the open roof, and in the hazy moonlight, Iemitsu could make out a few more details about his temporary allies – dark glasses and bandages wound around the quiet one's head, while the other was a twitchy blond with glinting fangs and a raised scar drawn horizontally across the middle of his face. And though he couldn't see exactly what colours they were, without the eyepatch, he could tell that Mukuro had two different eyes. Perhaps one was blind…?

«Actually, before you knock me out this time, I want to confirm something with you.»

«Yeah? What is it?»

Something in Mukuro's right eye shifted, but before Iemitsu could register what it was, someone very familiar flickered into existence.

It was his baby boy; his tuna-bird, exactly as he remembered him. And frozen with shock, he forgot himself for a split second.

" _Tsu–_ "

«Ken! Kaki!»

The entire building they were on exploded into a thousand pieces, and Iemitsu gasped, even as his body automatically sprung up in ingrained self-defense. Then his eyes narrowed as he realised exactly _what_ was happening.

 _That little – I'm gonna_ kill _that boy for pulling a fast one on me!_

The burst of rage he felt was more than enough to break the illusion, and he looked down to see three kids streaking in completely different directions. He honed in on Mukuro's head and rushed after him, not really caring about the other two.

 _Idiot._

It took less than a minute to overtake and cut off the child's escape route, and Mukuro skidded to a stop, the irritating smirk never leaving his face.

Enough was enough.

«Kid, ever hear the saying 'Don't bite off more than you can chew'?»

He released his killing aura, and even through the veil of darkness he could sense the boy's stirring anxiety.

«Sure. But well,» he said as he inched his fingers towards his glowing red eye, «even I have things I can't give up.»

In gruesome fascination, Iemitsu watched as Mukuro gouged his own eye, blood and tears gushing out like some sick horror film.

«The Fifth Realm: The Realm of Humans.»

It seemed that even a kid as twisted and tortured as Mukuro had something he wanted to protect, and while Iemitsu could understand that, he shook his head in frustration, hoping he could beat some sense into the boy. He'd never been good at dealing with children, and Mukuro was pushing all the wrong buttons, but his instincts were telling him that Mukuro could help him find Tsuna.

«This is pointless you know,» he called out as they exchanged blows. Mukuro had pulled out his trident, and whatever power he was using had definitely enhanced his fighting skills, but he was still nowhere near Iemitsu's level, even without the use of his sky flames. «We also had a deal, so why don't you just stop this nonsense and hold your end? I'll even promise to help you and your two friends adjust to your new lives, which I think is more than generous.»

«Pff. Don't waste your breath, _Mafioso_.» He spat the word in obvious disgust. «I _hate_ the mafia, and I've had my sights set on wiping them off the face of the earth ever since I lost my right eye. The Estraneo famiglia's death was just the beginning.»

Iemitsu cut him off with a roundhouse kick to the stomach, and even though he was holding back, he could still here the audible _crack_ of a broken rib or two as the boy slammed into a brick wall.

«Give it a rest. There's no way you can destroy the entire mafia with just the three of you, even if you do have a bit of talent.» It was a last-ditch effort, but it seemed like the boy's mind was too far gone and steeped in too much hatred for him or anyone else to fix. _What a damn shame._

« _Ku…fufufu_. That's…what you think.» Mukuro struggled to his feet, the tip of his trident pointed in defiance towards Iemitsu. «Besides, your little _target_ is much too interesting to hand him over to the mafia.»

«Wait…you _know_ where he is?»

The demon chuckled, giving nothing away, and the man saw red.

« _TELL ME!_ »

And then Mukuro looked to the side and asked, «Have you ever heard of the saying, 'Don't count your chickens before they hatch'?»

«Wh–»

« _Mille Serpenti!_ »

A large spiked ball on a chain came crashing through, and Iemitsu had to wrench his body in the opposite direction to avoid getting hurt.

« _The hell are you?!_ »

«Hands off the kid, _Estraneo._ » A tall man with spiky black hair and a two-striped tattoo on his cheek stepped through the settling dust, recalling the heavy ball back to his hand and preparing for another attack.

«You heard him. We of the Serpente famiglia don't condone violence towards a child, especially if they're your own. And we intend make sure you'll _never_ be able to torture any of these poor children ever again.»

Iemitsu turned to look, and groaned inwardly when he saw the heavy-set man with light brown hair and a bushy moustache step in, his normally kind eyes narrowed in disgust and anger.

«Wait; you have it wrong! I'm not from the Estraneo famiglia–»

«Oh please. The other two boys have already told us what's going on, so don't try to weasel your way out of this!»

 _Today is not my day,_ Iemitsu thought as he dodged another strike from the lackey and the signature brass knuckles of the Serpente's Don. But he knew it was impossible; not without revealing his true identity. And judging by the return of Mukuro's twisted grin, the boy knew it too.

 _Outsmarted by a child and his companions…Iemitsu, when have you fallen so far?_

More Serpente members poured in from all directions hoping to surround the Young Lion, and he knew he couldn't stay long or kidnap Mukuro without dealing significant damage to the misguided famiglia.

He swore in gut-wrenching profanity underneath his mask, feeling like a part of his fragile hope had been gouged out. The sense of overwhelming failure was almost crippling, but regardless of what he felt, he knew that his best option was to beat a hasty retreat.

So he turned and ran, giving Mukuro one last glare as his unspoken promise that he'd hunt him down one day and rip the secrets straight out of the boy's mouth himself.

* * *

AN: Mukuro's chapter is done, although this was shorter than the other chapters as it's technically a continuation of the previous one. I've also edited the past chapters, as I spotted a few mistakes and wanted the overall story to flow better. I also had to read it to remind myself what each character is like (for continuity's sake!).

As for Tsuna's comment on Mukuro's eyes, it was just an honest observation on Tsuna's part, nothing more. I also gave Lancia's old famiglia a name as it was never stated in either the manga or anime, and it seems Lancia has a penchant for snakes, so "Serpente" it is. Anyway, whom will Tsuna meet next? Stay tuned for more!


	14. The Rooster

AN: Holy- another update! The sky must be falling.

Anyway, thanks for all the love! This story still lives. And as always: "speech" for Japanese, and «speech» for Italian (unless specified).

 **WARNINGS:** Slight swearing, and mention of suicide/self-destructive tendencies (a.k.a. Gokudera).

* * *

 **The Golden Canary**

 _Cock-a-doodle-doo!  
_ _The dame has lost her shoe,  
_ _The master's lost his fiddlestick,  
_ _And knows not what to do._

* * *

 _Chapter 8: The Rooster_

When Tsuna woke up from a hazy dream, he had the vaguest memory of meeting a stranger that felt all kinds of wrong, yet still had the loneliest of eyes. And for some reason, there was a lingering taste of pineapples in his mouth.

He shook his head to clear the afterimage, and chalked it to the pineapple bread he had last night.

 _Now's not the time_ , he thought as he went through the motions of his daily routine, although tremors of anxiety caused him to drop his toothbrush several times. He'd let Oni-san know that he was ready to present his answer, and while he felt fine when whispering to Oni-san, he wasn't so sure now. It was more the "Do-Or-Die" situation that made him think and rethink his answer several times, twisting his gut more than his fingers could do to the hem of his shirt.

 _What if she doesn't like my answer? What if it's not the right answer? What if it's the right answer but I mess up on how to say it? What if it's the right answer, but she decides to stop teaching me anyway?_

Negative thoughts churned his stomach enough to reject the idea of eating breakfast, so even though Oni-san had given him a surprisingly generous amount of food, he couldn't bring himself to touch it at all (which caused a raised eyebrow, but at least there were no additional questions added to his plate).

His nervousness seemed to rub off on his guardian as well, judging by his slow shuffle and how he stayed silent on the way to Signorina's house.

The dread that weighed his shoulders eclipsed all other senses, so it was with a start that Tsuna realised they'd arrived. Far too soon for his liking.

«…Knock whenever you're ready.»

Oni-san's gruff voice broke the silence, and he gulped, looking at the familiar rusty lionhead screwed into the door. Somewhere along the way, it'd become a majestic yet comforting sight to Tsuna, but today it just seemed ominous.

 _Okay Tsuna, you can do this. You've practiced enough times, and it's an honest answer. Just see it as ripping a bandage off really quick so it doesn't hurt as much._

He swallowed hard, lifted a hand, and knocked.

 _Tap-tap-tap._

Silence.

Oni-san growled, muttering something about a « _pansy-assed knock that's barely audible_ », and glared daggers at him before reaching out and giving a heavier knock using the brass ring in the lion's mouth.

 _TAP-TAP-TAP._

Still no answer, and Tsuna's inner panic reached a level he didn't even know could exist. _Oh my god…did she l-l-leave already? Is she tired of me and just left without saying anything? O-o-or did I mess up and accidentally give her too much information and she got_ killed _?!_

«That's weird. Unless maybe… _shit._ » Oni-san swore under his breath, alternating between banging fiercely on the door and peering through the front window to see any signs of life inside.

Tsuna on the other hand was trying to take deep gulps of air to prevent the onset of hyperventilation, eyes darting wildly at all the scary possibilities of what an unanswered door could mean until he caught a glimpse of something white poking out from inside one of the flowerpots.

He quickly caught the sleeve of Oni-san, who was about to call someone on the phone, and pointed at the object before he'd be yelled at.

The man's scowl smoothed a little, and he went to fish out the piece of paper.

It must have been a note from Signorina as he skimmed over it and swore again, but with less heat this time.

«Of all the days to be busy…!» He glanced at Tsuna, and let out a long-suffering sigh. «Well. At least she'll be back soon. I guess it's just you and me today, kid.» He flicked the paper to Tsuna, who actually managed to catch it in surprise. «Let's go. You can burn the message when we get home.»

At that, he turned to walk back, and Tsuna scrambled after him while trying to read the note at the same time. He still struggled with memorising some of the harder Italian words he'd been taught, but even he could understand the short sentence:

«Out today. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon at the earliest _._ »

And in the bottom left corner, written so small that he almost missed it, was a tiny word in Japanese:

"Sorry."

It made him equal parts worried and curious, but since there was nothing else he or Oni-san could do, they headed home, and carried on with their boring routine.

* * *

The hooded figure practically dragged herself through the alley, barely managing to make it to the nondescript back door and knocking to the rhythm of the tagline from _Smooth Criminal_ (he'd insisted, and knew she couldn't say no).

She almost collapsed the second he opened the door, but for once, the pervy doctor didn't try to grope her as he gently supported her to sit on the examination table and locked the door behind them.

And then he had to break his chivalrous moment with puckered lips and a leery comment.

« _Mamma mia_ ; I think that's the first time a lady has so quickly fallen for me! This must be my lucky day!»

«Har-dee-har, you pervert.»

«Oh Mademoiselle, you wound me! Did I not drop all other appointments I had today just to see you?» He clutched his heart in exaggerated pain, but she still caught the concern reflected in his eyes, and in the way he gave her some space to catch her breath (to which she muttered a small «thanks»). «Anyway, that aside, how've you been my Lav-ley Lady?»

She groaned at the horrendous punny nickname and punched him weakly. «We're both too old for this, Doctor Sha-maul.»

«And yet you still look like a flower in bloom.» He chuckled, but swept over her tired form with a critical eye. «So. You had another one of your attacks?»

She nodded, rubbing her forehead with the back of a trembling hand. «Like I explained over the phone. You're absolutely sure that we're safe here?»

«Only the best for my favourite Mademoiselle. Not even the boss knows I'm here; he thinks I'm gallivanting around my regular hangout spots.»

«He wouldn't be wrong though.»

«Touché. But I'll have you know I _do_ take my work seriously.»

«Only if it involves cute girls.»

«Hey now; you do yourself a great injustice! I must insist that you go beyond 'cute'; you're more on the 'infinitely ravishing' side!»

«Doc, _please_.»

«Alright, alright. Ever so impatient Lavina.»

«Comes with having a terminal disease.»

He shot her a complicated look that was a mixture of _not funny_ and _wistfulness_ , and she bowed her head in slight repentance. But he simply shook his head and grabbed his stethoscope and a few tools to perform the regular checkup on her body.

They settled in a familiar silence, with Lavina meekly complying to their routine.

Like riding a bike, except not so simple as it came with all the complications of human emotions.

She knew what she was doing to him by calling him each time she needed a medical checkup (although technically he'd asked – no, _made_ her promise that to him). It was hidden beneath layers and layers of womanising combined with his perversion and desperation, but once upon a time, the Trident Assassin known as Shamal had declared his sole devotion to her, and she'd looked him in the eye and told him she couldn't give him what he wanted.

By that time, her heart already belonged to the Don of the Scorpione famiglia, but a part of it broke for his sake as his face fell in a white flag of defeat.

Shamal was the one she met her first in the backstage of one of her heyday concerts, after five encores she'd been more than ready to leave. He was flighty, flirty, and frivolous, and she'd told him as such before turning away in indignation. So it was a surprise to her when he actually stuck around for three weeks straight; downright acting like a stalker and yet slippery enough to escape her manager and security guards each time he overstepped her boundaries, which was pretty much all the time.

It was creepy yet endearing, and even though Lavina knew she could never love him romantically (he wasn't her type), she'd been intrigued at what made the man tick.

She'd found a story much too close to her own (constantly sick, no stranger to death, yet a genius in his field), but also discovered a confidant in the man behind the mask.

They became more than friends but less than lovers; comrades-in-arms in a world where the greatest wars were waged within themselves. And then she met _him_ , Shamal's temporary boss at the time, in the middle of her regular gig at a dingy pub he'd cleared out just so he could hear her play for him.

He was everything Lavina's mother told her not to marry – ugly, married, and dangerous – but she fell for him anyway. Behind his gruff exterior and words was a heart that loved more fiercely than a hurricane, and she surprised even herself when she found herself having an affair with a man who already had a family of his own.

Granted, she hadn't known until after she tested positive. And therein laid the rub – as a sufferer of a terminal disease, all she could do was tear things apart. It was nice to forget her curse when she was just "The Silver-Haired Pianist" pouring her passions through her piano, or even listening to her friends' woes and offering advice and comfort here and there. But in the end, _she_ was the hurricane, and would only ever leave destruction in her wake.

Getting pregnant was probably the only chance she'd ever get at creating life, and she'd been absolutely adamant about keeping her unborn child, even if she died in the process.

She never told her lover about her disease, so the look of shock on his face when she refused his proposal was painful, but not unexpected. It was Shamal who was the one who had to complicate everything. Even without being the Don's personal doctor, he would've volunteered to be her physician in a heartbeat, but in any case he was ordered to perform the most meticulous of all checkups to make sure her pregnancy went well without being exposed as the Don's mistress.

She couldn't hide a single scratch even if she wanted to, and the result was that the doctor found out about her premature expiration date.

After he'd gotten over his devastation, he was absolutely adamant about her getting an abortion. While it was actually relatively safe for a patient with RRMS to conceive and give birth, and the disease wasn't genetically passed down, the likelihood of having another attack was a lot higher than usual, in which case both child and mother could die. The probability of Lavina's body deteriorating rapidly after giving birth was also much too high for Shamal's comfort, and he voiced all this to her in hopes of dissuading her from what he called a «suicidal decision».

To Lavina, the doctor in front of her was still devastated over her impending death, but she'd already made her choice with her dying will. So she begged him to keep it a secret; begged with tears and shame and overwhelming _guilt_ over what she thought she'd never do to a friend, and she tore his tender heart apart. But he took it with the strength she'd always known he had, and he relented on the promise that she'd come to him and only him for all future treatments.

Eight months later, she gave birth to the only light and hope of her world – a baby boy with silver hair and tea-green eyes just like her, but untainted by her disease.

Her lover upped his efforts in trying to get her to marry him, saying he'd leave everything – his famiglia, his wife, his _daughter_ – behind for her. And she could see so agonisingly clearly that she was ripping everything apart with her own hands; lives she loved, lives she swore to protect and cherish for as long as she lived.

So she'd let go of her child; her light, and something died within her that day. Even so, she had no regrets, and she had never been as strong as the day Doctor Shamal and some other people from the Scorpione famiglia took Hayato away. The tears she cried were of the agony of loss and pride, and shortly after she fell into oblivion.

Like the doctor said, her condition worsened right after, and she was bedridden for four months. It was impossible for her to perform anymore, but that suited Lavina just fine. Everything was torn from her – a fitting punishment for the one who tore everything else apart.

She'd found a private place in the corner of Italy, staying out of the Scorpione famiglia's business as the contract they'd drawn up stated. In return, she was compensated generously, visited Shamal whenever necessary as per her promise, and got to see her baby boy three times a year.

While they were the only days she looked forward to, those three days of heaven also paradoxically became three days of pure torture, because she'd sworn not to tell Hayato about his true heritage. And it was so hard to deny, even when he took to music like a fish to water, or when he would innocently comment on how they had the same hair colour.

It didn't help that her presence lit proverbial fires of gossip, and she could see what it did to those who knew the truth, and in turn, what they did to those around them. Her very existence was tearing them apart again from the inside out, which tore her heart too, and so she decided to end it all.

Again, she enlisted Shamal's reluctant help (because he might as well go all the way), and faked her death on the day of Hayato's third birthday. It was completely cruel of her to do so, but she needed an excuse to give him a part of her that he could keep forever. And she wanted to be selfish, just this once.

But before she "died", she asked Shamal to keep an eye on Hayato, and when he gruffly agreed, she gave him the kiss he never wanted.

And then she'd really been waiting to die, stuck in a limbo of life and death yet still trying to enjoy each day as they came, but apart from the few new acquaintances she made in her neighbourhood, Shamal was really her only close friend, and even then she didn't dare to disturb him too much in case her love caught wind of her continued existence.

«You seem…oddly happy,» Shamal commented, interrupting her thoughts as he motioned to her to get ready for the MRI scan. «Not that it's a bad thing, of course! Just…you seem more like your old self. Before everything blew to pieces, and I'm talking both figuratively and literally.»

She gave him a secret smile and hummed, thinking of darling little Leo-kun and how the boy did wonders for her broken self. «Sorry; can't tell you the details. But I can say that I've taken up teaching again.»

«Teaching? Didn't you give that up after you 'died' because you were worried about too much exposure?»

«Well yes, but come on – it's been over five years, and I only have the one student. Plus it's low-key, and puts a little extra money in my pocket.»

«So basically a charity case, 'cause you know you're pretty much set for life after your last payout from the Scorpione.»

«I'm pretty sure I'm a charity case too. I guess that makes us birds of a feather then.»

And he gave her that look; the one that made her feel sorry that he was the only one she could share her secrets with.

«Anyway. How about you? How are you holding up?»

«Oh, the usual. Your life seems more interesting than mine at the moment.» He gave her a sidelong glance. «But come now; I know that's not what you really wanted to ask.»

«…Right. Well, if you don't mind my shamelessness, how's my little Hayato?»

«Dunno.»

She blinked in confusion. «Um, what?»

«Haven't seen him for around a year now. Dumb kid seems to be turning out exactly like you: Suicidal.»

« _WHAT?!_ »

«Maybe a better term for it would be 'self-destructing', in all senses of the word.» He sighed, as if recalling something unpleasant. «You know how I trained him for a few months on how to use dynamite because he wanted to join the mafia?»

She nodded wordlessly.

«Well, he showed me he basically doesn't care about himself by harming himself just to defeat his opponent. Sounds exactly like _someone_ we know.»

She ignored the jibe, heart now pounding out of her chest for Hayato. «But…but he's okay, right? He's learned his lesson?»

«Physically? He's fine. I broke my own rules and treated him, after all.»

 _But you kept your promise_.

«Not sure whether he learned his lesson though. Pretty sure he hasn't, if his recent fights are any indication. But for now, I've confiscated his dynamite and told his father and servants not to let him anywhere near the stuff until he figures out what he's fighting for.»

«Thanks. Although I thought you said you don't know how he's doing?»

«Just because I'm not glued to his side doesn't mean I'm not keeping an eye out for him. Well, maybe more like half an eye. I'd rather look at the ladies, you know.» He winked, and she kicked him. «OW! As violently beautiful as ever, milady.»

He finished looking over the MRI scans, and jotted several things on her medical record while peering over his clipboard a few times as if he wanted to ask something.

«What?»

He remained silent.

She sighed, carding a hand through her hair. «What is it? It's okay to ask, you know.»

«Why do you do this to yourself, Lavina?»

She knew he was referring to her past decisions, and she knew he knew the answer already, but she also knew a hurting friend when she saw one.

«It's better this way. I'd rather have them live like this than having them live with the constant pain I have to go through.»

«Do you really think you can hide forever, and that it's _better_ for them?» He lowered his voice in quiet anger, rounding on her with the same pain they shared. «My boss still keeps your letters in his safe, and listens to your recordings whenever he thinks no one is looking. Your son says he's given up the piano, even though I've caught him sneaking off to practice in the middle of the night like some drug addict who can't quit. He's also a smart kid, so do you honestly think he'll never figure it out?»

She sighed, drawing circles on her temple.

«No. I'm not _that_ naïve, but hopefully, I'll be long gone before that happens.»

« _Oh for cryin' out loud_ –»

« _Please,_ Shamal. We've been over this before.» And she took his callused hand in hers and looked up, knowing the unfairness of it all yet too tired to care. «Just…I won't ask anything more. You don't have to be with him twenty-four seven, or even make sure he's happy, but at least give him a reason to stay. To live.»

He was silent for a long while.

« _Please_.»

He exhaled and squeezed her hand before pulling away.

«I can try, but I know I'm not the one who can be that person for him. Even if I wanted to be.» He went back to scribbling on his clipboard, sighing something close to lovesickness and yet not quite. «Like mother, like son,» he muttered as a parting shot.

 _Like mother, like son…hmm._

«Anyway. On to 'happier' news, you've lost weight again. The MRI also shows that there are more lesions on your brain. Are you following the exercise regimen I gave you all those years ago?» She nodded. «Well, since your feet coordination and sense of balance have been severely affected, I'm going to give you a slightly different one. And,» he took out a silver case filled with his special mosquito-pills, «I'll try to delay the onset of deterioration with a different mixture of remedies. Let's see…I'll need Gemma, Karissa, and Viola for this.»

Said mosquitoes with trident-shaped stingers flew out and stung Lavina's arm, although she barely felt anything. They went back to their master once it was done, and he re-capsuled them for future use.

«I'm also switching a few of your current pills for stronger ones. I can give you about a year's worth now, but you'll have to come back when you're almost through with them. Regardless of all the above, I think you're gonna have to take that wheelchair and crutches now whether you like it or not, just in case something like this happens again.»

She groaned.

«Don't worry Mademoiselle – I can _personally_ guarantee you'll still look sexy with four extra wheels!»

She blocked his kissy face with a hand, and he pouted into it.

«Just get me those pills, and I'll let you handle the delivery of said items to my place.»

«Anything for you, my lady!» He spun around and took a few pill bottles out of several hidden drawers, giving Lavina a glimpse of several jars' worth of live mosquitoes within.

She frowned at the telltale sight.

«Wait. You're not still working on a cure, are you?»

The pervert doctor froze like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

«Ummm…»

«…You know what? Forget it. Whatever helps you sleep better at night.»

«Lavina.» He softened his expression, scratching his facial stubble like he usually did when he was nervous. «My proposal's still valid, you know. No matter what happens.»

And she was torn, because she knew that despite everything that happened; despite knowing he was the only one she could be selfish around, she couldn't say yes. Not then, and not now.

«Shamal…»

But he was strong enough to smile in the face of rejection, so he slipped his 'pervert' mask back on and snaked a hand to grope her butt, to which she automatically slapped away.

«Well, it's always worth a try.»

He placed the forgotten pill bottles into a bag and handed it to her as she hopped off the table, feeling much better than she had when she first came in.

«Thanks. How much do I owe you?»

«Really now? Weren't you the one who said we're too old for this?»

«Touché. Then you have my heartfelt thanks, and all the remaining love I have that doesn't already belong to my family.»

«I highly doubt there's any left, but I'll take whatever scraps I can get.» He ushered her to the door, even though she had enough strength to walk by herself. «Now get going; I'll have your wheelchair and crutches sent to you by tonight. And make sure you use them whenever you need, okay? I mean, pretending to be strong and independent is sexy and all, but so is accepting help when you know you need it.»

«Yes _dad_.» She grinned and waved goodbye before stepping out and throwing her hood back on. «I'll see you next year?»

He made a shooing motion with his hand, swiping and lighting a cigarette with the other before the door closed on him.

 _I'll take that as a yes._

* * *

AN: Doctor Shamal was actually not in my original plan, but knowing that I needed a scene between Lavina and a doctor, a lightbulb went off inside my head. So yes, now there's a whole backstory behind these two, and maybe I'll do some sort of side-story for them if I ever have a lot of free time on my hands. In the meantime, if you want to read some sort of story featuring the two, check out _The Cuckoo Father_ by Luki Dimension. It's so eerily similar to how I imagined their relationship to be, although there are a few key differences.

Shamal will forever be a pervert, but again, I think this makes him slightly more likeable as a character. Just think that all his flirting is for the sake of forgetting his first love, and for his assassination job where he gets inside information by wooing the ladies. I also find it really appropriate how his main weapons are the same as his healing tools, and how they're all female (as only female mosquitoes sting).

At any rate, I'm pretty satisfied at how this turned out, even though I had to leave out a few things for the sake of reading length. This will also be the first and last time the doc is mentioned, at least for a while. I don't think he'll be back until act II.

Follow, favourite, review - it's become a writer's mantra.


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